


The Devil Is In (The Details)

by SeasInkarnadine



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: ASL, Abuse, Also I liberally stole characters from the He-Man Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Amnesia, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Deaf Character, Drugs, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Gang warfare, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry for being 'gritty reboot' trash, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mob/Cop au, PTSD, Recreational Drugs, Sign Language, Starting out with an M rating but plan to hit E, Trauma, We are gonna get pretty dark here, fight me about it, undercover cop, will update appropriately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:30:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 53,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasInkarnadine/pseuds/SeasInkarnadine
Summary: Rookie detective Adora is fired after she refuses to stop investigating the mysterious death of criminal kingpin known as Hordak. But Adora has never been one to give up easily. With the help of her former boss, Angella, she is able to begin an independent undercover operation. Now she has to find a way to join the ruthless gang known as the Horde. Fortunately for her a certain feline hybrid presents her with the perfect opportunity…NOTE: Adora is deaf in this AU.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s loud.

She knows that it’s loud.

Not because she can hear it (although she can, just a little bit), but because the rhythm of the bass is beating in her chest. She can feel the music pumping like it’s taken up residence in place of her heart.

It’s nice. But it’s also a little distracting. And right now she needs to be focused.

She leans against the edge of a balcony, staring down at the throng of bodies packed onto the dance floor of the Triple Six. Up here in the VIP section there’s a little more room to breathe. She sips her margarita. Idly she licks at the salt on the rim of her glass. Her body might be turned towards the activity below, but her attention is focused on the black door marked “employees only” located behind her.

Adora sighs and pulls her phone out of her purse (again) and reads her text message ( _again_ ).

Micah _: Heard that Sweet and Skater are doing a secret show tonight at Hellfire. I got tickets but I can’t go. Do you want to see them?_

Translated, it means that

  1. Shadow Weaver and Skeletor are having a meeting at the 666
  2. It’s a surveillance only job (DO NOT engage, DO NOT do anything to compromise your identity
  3. (this is her _favorite_ ) Angella has no idea when the meeting is.



So guess who has been hanging out at this stupid club for the past _five_ hours?

Stake outs are actually the worst. And she isn’t even being paid for this! _I must be an idiot to be suckered into doing this._ She shakes her head, willing the negative thoughts away. _No… no. This is important. Angella needs all of the information that I can get._  
  
She glances at the door. Still shut. Still guarded by a meaty bouncer. Still totally inaccessible to her. All she can do is wait for them to come out.

She scrolls back in her texts, desperate for something to do.  
  
  
Micah _: Heard that Sweet and Skater are doing a secret show tonight at Hellfire. I got tickets but I can’t go. Do you want to see them?  
__A:Yeah sure!_

Micah _: Great! I’ll e-mail them to you. And keep in touch so I know you’re safe, yeah? I know their shows can be kinda rowdy._ (Send me regular status updates on the mission)

A: _ok, will do!_

A (8:42 PM): _Why is this line so long. This place isn’t even that good._ (...Okay there isn’t any code behind this one. She just hates waiting.)

M (8:43 PM): _I have a VIP pass you can use._

A (8:43 PM): _You do?_

M (8:47 PM): _Check your e-mail._

A (8:58 PM): _Thanks!_

A (10:02 PM) _When’s this show supposed to start again?_

M (10: 53 PM) _I don’t know, I’m sorry!_

A (11:12 PM) _Secret shows are cool but you think they’d at least put the time down...they don’t have to be THAT mysterious…_ (still no sign and also I’m bored)

M (11: 31 PM) You know you could always go home if you’re not feeling up to it.  
_  
_ A (11:41 PM) No it’s okay. It might start at midnight.

M (11:42 PM) _Ok, just let me know._

A (12:21 AM) _Show STILL hasn’t started...typical. I’ve seen some of the openers doing a sound check though._ (No sign of Shadow Weaver or Skeletor, but I recognize a few other Horde goons who’re coming through)

M (12:30 AM) _I’m sure it can’t be too much longer._

A (12:45 AM) _They’re here!_

M (12:50 AM) _Finally! I’m glad that ticket wasn’t a fake._

A (12:52 AM) _Me, too._

A (1:02 AM) _Ugh, there’s someone standing in front of me and I can’t see the show._

M (1:07 AM) _Can you see around them?_

A (1:07 AM) _Not without speaking to them or doing something drastic._

M (1:07 AM) _That happens a lot. It sucks but at least it’s better than nothing._

A (1:08 AM) _I want a better view! My brain is melting out of my head in boredom._

M (1:09 AM) _Adora, don’t. I know it’s rude of them, but I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks._

A (1:09 AM) _I’m dying_

M (1:09 AM) _I’m calling an ambulance_

A (1:09 AM) _NO I WAS JOKING_

M (1:11 AM) _They’re on their way, they’ll be there in 10 minutes tops. I called the club security line and let them know to get ready and to apply first aid until you can be transported to North Land General._

A (1:11 AM) _Seriously???_

M (1:12 AM) _No._

A (1:12 AM) _Har, har._

M (1:13 AM) Msg me when the show’s over, I’ll get you a Lyft.  
_  
_ A (1:13 AM) Okay.

M (1:14 AM) _And don’t drink too much._

A (1:14 AM) _I am painfully sober._

M (1:18 AM) _Let’s keep it that way._  


She glances at her wrist watch.

1:23 AM. She turns around and glances at the “Employees Only” door. Forty minutes ago she had seen Shadow Weaver and Skeletor slip behind it. It figures that mobsters would hold a meeting at one in the morning.

Something in her peripheral catches her attention. It’s some guy. Objectively, he’s beautiful. He’s covered in vibrant scales, orange around his eyes and gradating into teal and then cyan as they progress down his neck. Some of the scales are thicker and sharper at the back of his head, and he’s wearing a snappy black dress shirt. Hands down the best looking reptile she’s seen. And he’s looking right at her.

Oh, no.

He must not hear her unspoken plea because he comes up to her anyway.

“Hey.” He says. “Someone stand you up?”

Adora, despite reading his lips perfectly, smiles politely and makes the sign for ‘deaf’.

“Can you read lips?” _Not for you I can't._ She continues smiling like she has no idea what he said.

“Oh.” He mutters, visibly deflating. “Only one (something) woman in (something something) club and she (something something).” Adora tosses her hair out of her face, one hand on her glass, completely ignoring the guy. The last thing she needs is some gross straight man grinding on her. To her immense relief he accepts her dismissal and goes to sulk in a distant corner of the VIP lounge.

Adora refocuses her attention. She’s seen a few other people come and go from the same door she saw Shadow Weaver and Skeletor disappear into, but most have had their faces hidden. She’s done her best to keep track of them regardless. She needs all the info she can get on these people.

If only there were some way that she could get back there to record their conversation...

She downs the rest of her drink, trying to curb the urge to crawl out of her own skin. Stake Outs. Are. The. Worst.

The initial excitement of seeing Shadow Weaver and Skeletor wore off about twenty minutes ago, and now she’s back to feeling stifled and cramped. Her feet are aching from the heels she’s wearing and the slim maroon cocktail dress she’s in isn’t particularly conducive to physical activity.

Adora wonders if it might be worth sneaking into that back room despite Angella’s explicit instructions to do nothing that might arouse suspicion. She crosses the floor of the lounge towards the bar, deep in thought, when--

_crrrrkkbOOM!_ There’s a rush of air and particulates on the back of her neck, and she turns to see that the wall to the back room has exploded outwards. There’s snarling, and screaming, and she thinks maybe the guy who hit on her has been crushed underneath the rubble. There are people fighting, but she can’t tell how many because of the club lights and terrified VIPs.

_Now this is more like it!_ _  
_

She reaches down to her side and meets empty air. It takes another beat before she remembers she had to turn her piece in along with her badge when the department fired her.

_Pop! Popopop!_ Someone’s firing a gun. Without pausing to think about it she leaps over the bar counter.

Adora takes a moment to breathe.

She’s itching to get into the fight, but fight _who_ ? This is Horde on Horde. And fight with _what_ ? Her heels? Not to mention Angella would _kill_ her if she found out Adora had even _entertained_ the idea of getting involved.

Fighting the feeling of disappointment, Adora realizes there’s only one thing left to do: Get out of here.

She peeks over the edge of the bar counter. There’s a large orange humanoid she recognizes as Beast Man, one of Skeletor’s officers, squaring off with none other than the orange scaled dude from earlier. Snake guy dislocates his jaw to reveal massive fangs glittering with venom. Good thing he’s Beast Man’s problem, now.

To her left are the stairs. They’re clear. She doesn’t give doubt a chance to take root in her mind; she runs.

Adora has one foot on the top step when things start to go _really_ wrong.

Someone launches themself from the rafters onto the steps beside Adora, knocking her off balance. They’re leaping down the steps at an inhuman speed when suddenly someone lobs a massive slab of debris right into their path. It’s immediately clear that the stairs are no longer a viable path.

Before Adora has a chance to reroute herself to another exit, there’s a heavy pressure on the back of her neck. Off balance and in heels, there’s no time to react as she’s lifted into the air. She hears a guttural scream, and then is viciously launched towards the nearest wall. She knows instinctively that she is going to die.

Fear (which had been on a low broil in her belly up until this point) comes to life with a howl. Her adrenaline spikes and blood surges. The world goes white.

 


	2. Chapter 2

A vicious ache explodes in her chest and Adora snaps back into reality.

She gasps like she’s surfacing from a long dive under water. Her knees give out and she stumbles down onto her hands, stomach rolling. She only just-- _just--_ manages to avoid throwing up all over the unconscious woman lying in front of her.

Oh, Gods.

How long has it been? Since the last time? She reaches, desperately, for the number. She doesn't know why she needs to know but she _does,_ she _needs_ to know.  
  
She counted this morning. She counts every morning.

2 years,  4 months, 22 days.

It feels like it was yesterday. It feels like it was a thousand years ago.

Back to zero.

0 years, 0 months, 0 days, 0 minutes. Zero.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to quell the shivering that’s wracking her muscles.

What has she done? What the hell _happened_?

Adora turns to the woman. _Octavia_ ? Oh please don’t be dead, please, _please,_ she prays as she reaches out for Octavia’s jugular. Her neck is slick from sweat and gritty with debris. There’s a deep gash on one cheek. _Did I do that?_

She manages to find a pulse. It’s strong.

Adora releases a wet noise that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh.

The club is in ruins. The balcony that supported the VIP lounge is completely collapsed. It’s dark, except for an ethereal white glow--an ethereal white glow coming from _her._

In the dim light she notices a few bodies scattered around. She can’t determine whether or not they’re Horde members or innocent patrons. Whether they're alive or merely unconscious. She wants to help them. She has to help them.

One thing at a time. One person at a time. She turns back to Octavia.

Adora pats her down, looking for any injuries that could require immediate attention.

A passing light reflects something blue and yellow from the shadows. She jumps up into a defensive position, brandishing her sword. The blade feels like it’s humming in her hands, pouring energy into her flagging limbs.

Everything is still.

Then out of the corner of her eye she sees something flash--

Red and blue lights.

Panic flares bright and hot in her chest.

She isn't supposed to be here.

She was publicly instructed to stay away from the Hordak case and everything and anything involving the Horde.

But that isn’t even the worst of it.

The dim light she's emitting suddenly feels painfully bright.

She’s unregistered.

Frantic, she takes off. She drops her sword. When it hits the ground it vanishes into a puff of smoke, back to wherever it was summoned from. Her ethereal glow fades. The magic ebbs out of her and every ache feels like it has been multiplied by ten. But she can’t give in. Not yet. Not yet.

She has to play a brief game of cat and mouse with some of the officers who come in through the back door of the club, but Adora manages to use some exposed rebar to climb up and out through a window and into the night.

She shivers against the cold--her jacket’s still at coat check. Assuming coat check wasn’t annihilated like the VIP lounge was. At least she has her purse. Her dress is covered in dirt, ripped in more than a few places. She glances down at her watch. 1:45 AM. Subtracting the time she took getting out of the Triple 6, she’s lost… 11 minutes.

 _A heavy hand on the back of her neck, the rush of air as she sailed towards concrete--_ no, don’t think about it. One thing at a time. Get home.

Her taxi driver doesn’t say anything about her disheveled appearance and Adora thinks she could marry him for this small kindness.

She sits in the back of dark cab and watches the city streets pass in a blur.

 _Fangs flashing, one bright yellow eye, a blue beam of light cutting through the dark, her muscles coiled tight with magical energy--_ No, not here. Not here. Not yet.

Another 10 minutes and she’s stumbling through the door to her apartment. She drops her purse and then triple checks all of her locks. She had extra security installed a few years ago.

Once that’s done she calmly walks into the bathroom, kneels on the tile, lifts the lid of the toilet, and dry heaves like she’s trying to expel her very stomach. Her throat burns and her abdomen _aches_ but she can’t make herself _stop_.

She can’t stop seeing Octavia’s face. She can’t stop seeing the collapsed balcony. She can’t stop feeling the pressure on the back of her neck, the concrete rushing towards her, the bright red blood on the snow, the screaming--

 _No, no you don’t know that’s what happened. Think. Think about it._  
  


* * *

  
_  
__There was a hand on the back of her neck. She was thrown towards the wall. A millisecond before she hit it, she transformed into She-Ra. The impact threw dust everywhere. Her sword appeared in her hand, still covered in condensation from the summon._

_She pushed off of the wall and took a step forward, dust showering down from her shoulders. She locked her eyes on the back of her attacker’s head--it’s Octavia._

_She walked past She-Ra without bothering to look at her. Just tossed her aside without a second thought. Adora was merely an obstacle between Octavia and her goal._

_All of Octavia’s attention was focused on the woman trapped between the wall and the slab of rubble, the one who had pushed past Adora on the stairs. Light falls across her face for a moment. Adora catches blue and yellow eyes staring out at her from the dark._  
  
She recognizes her.  
Her name is Catra; she’s one of the highest ranking officials in Shadow Weaver’s faction. 

_But Catra doesn’t mean anything to She-Ra._

_The only thing that She-Ra cares about is cold justice._

_So she reaches out one massive hand and grabs Octavia’s shoulder._

_Octavia twists, trying to slam a right hook into She Ra’s belly. She Ra catches her hand and looks her in the eye. The startled look on Octavia’s face brings her no joy. She-Ra tosses her to a wall. Just like she tossed Adora. Octavia is built like a tank, and although she doesn’t roll away from the impact like She-Ra did, she’s still on her feet. She-Ra watches impassively._

_Then there’s a rush of air behind her. Instinctively she darts out of the way, a pair of massive fists slamming into the ground where she was a moment ago. It’s Beast Man. He opens his blue lips to yell something at her, but his tusks make it hard to read the words. All she hears is the baritone droll of his voice._

_She reaches out and grabs the fur hanging down off of his chin and pulls his face into her fist. Blood bursts over her knuckles, spattering against her stony face. And then it’s not an orange beast she’s attacking, it’s a young woman, blood drenching her neck from a cut on the side of her head, staring defiantly back at her._

_No, no, not this, this isn’t what-- this--_

_She notices then that her arms are held up by thick ropes, that her hand is tied to her sword, the sword that she’s slowly sinking into this woman’s gut, and she screams as it happens, and Adora can_ hear _it, she swears she can_ hear _it--_

 

* * *

 

_BAMBAMBAM!_

The vibrations of someone slamming something against her front door startle her out of a hazy half-sleep.

For what must be the hundredth time on this incredibly crappy night she feels her heart leap in her chest. Is it the police? Did someone recognize her as she was sneaking out of the club? Or what if it’s someone from the Horde? Did they see what she did--? Do they know she has magic?  
Her head is _pounding_ . 

She _really_ wishes she still had her gun.

Instead, she grabs the taser hidden in her dresser drawer, and darts back to the front door. Whoever it is is still pounding. She won’t look in the peephole; someone could be waiting, watching, ready to shoot her through the door. Instead she waits just to the left, ready to strike at whoever comes in. Which they’re going to, from the way the locks are turning right now. She breathes deeply, flicking the taser on, ready to fight for her life--

The door opens and light from the hallway spills into her living room. A man wearing a thick jacket takes a step inside.

“Bow _?_ ” She exclaims.

He jumps what must be ten feet in the air.

“ _You scared me!_ ” He signs. “ _What happened? You okay?_ ” His signs are pretty rigid, but between scaring him and his lack of experience she’ll cut him some slack.

“ _Fine._ ” She replies as he goes to flip the light switch.

“ _You do not look fine._ ” He grimaces at her. “ _Why is your face red? You have a… M-A-R-K_.” He points, and she reaches up to feel the groove in her skin. She must have fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against the toilet seat.

 _“Fell asleep at my desk_.”

He looks her up and down as if to say, ‘are you kidding me?’. She’s still wearing her ragged cocktail dress.  
Okay so it wasn’t a very good lie, she’s exhausted alright?

She closes and locks the door behind him while he hangs his coat up on a hook.

“ _I’m glad you’re here._ ” He signs, then pulls her into a hug. Pain flares up in her chest at the pressure, but she manages to keep from whimpering out loud. Just barely. The pain fades back to a dull ache when he lets her go.

 _“Seriously, what happened?_ _I got a call from Angella saying she lost C-O-N-T-A-C-T with you._ ”

Adora hits herself on the head (which, ow, bad choice).

“ _I forgot._ ” She retrieves her phone from her purse. It’s 5:49 AM. She has (32) unread messages, (9) missed calls and (5) voice mail messages.

 “ _R-E-P-O-R-T-S say explosion at 666?”_  

“ _It wasn’t an explosion, it was a fight. Skeletor and Shadow Weaver’s factions were meeting for--I guess some kind of negotiation, and--”_

Bow waves his hands frantically.

“ _Slow! Slow!_ ”

“ _I’ll write it down._ ”

“ _I am making you food._ ”

“ _But--_ ” He smacks her hands to keep her from signing anything else.

“ _No ‘but’s! Type!_ ” He waves her off and gets busy with the kitchen. She sighs, and leaves him to it. He knows the kitchen better than she ever could, anyway.

Once she's in her bedroom she turns to her mirror and lifts up her dress. Her chest is covered in an array of blooming bruises. She grimaces. She's only pretty sure that nothing is broken.

Her dress is pretty much ruined. Which is a shame, too, because she really did like it. Her arms twinge as she pulls it off and over her head. There's a scattering of bruises on her arms and surface scratches on her knees. Her knuckles are ragged. Minor injuries.

She dresses in some soft sweatpants and a long sleeve t shirt in order to hide the scrapes from Bow. She quickly washes her hands and wraps them in soft bandages from under her sink, then grabs her laptop and heads back out to the kitchen.

“Smells delicious!” she calls out to Bow. She takes a seat at the counter and sets down her laptop. Bow is looking at her expectantly.

A pause.

Bow smacks his forehead.

“ _Sorry! I asked, do you want J-A-M, or P-E-A-N-U-T butter on your toast?”_

“ _P-E-A-N-U-T butter. Did you ask me V-E-R-B-A-L-L-Y?”_

He has her repeat her signs again and fingerspell some words.

“ _Yes_ .” He blushes. “ _You can talk, so sometimes I forget you can't hear, too_.”

“You mean the egregious deaf accent doesn't constantly remind you?” She says out loud.

“ _It is not E-G-R-E-G-I-O-U-S. You have a lovely voice._ ”

“Sure, Bow.” He sets a mug of tea next to her as she flips open her laptop.

Adora munches on the toast while she types.

She leaves out the part about transforming, instead saying she hid at the bar until she could escape out of a window.

Bow dishes out some eggs from the skillet.

She exchanges her laptop for a plate of scrambled eggs. Bow sits down at the counter opposite from her, turning the laptop so he can see the screen. She watches his brows crease together the more he reads.

“ _Adora_.” he signs, but before he can say anything else he suddenly looks around and pats his pockets. She chews her food and watches with curiosity as he hops off the barstool and over to the entryway where his coat hangs. He pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey! Angella!”

Adora feels a rush of guilt turn the eggs in her stomach.

Bow walks back over to his seat. There's a deep wrinkle set between his brows.

“No, ************  ****** ***********  ******** ********* \--” Lip reading half a conversation adds a layer of difficulty to an already challenging task.

“White *********** ? Wait--Angella--she's here. Yes! ****** ** ********** ******.” He looks down and scratches the back of his neck. Adora watches him like a hawk, trying to pick up as much of the conversation as she can.

Mostly though it's Bow listening. At the end, he tells Angella to get some sleep.

As soon as he hits the ‘end call button on his phone he gives Adora THE most exasperated look. The one he used to reserve for--

He types out something on his phone and then hands it to her.

‘You left out the part where you transformed into She Ra.’

She grimaces.

Yeah.

“ _How did you know_?” She signs.

‘Angella told me the officers investigating the incident at 666 saw white light, and that some witnesses reported seeing a ‘tall woman with white blonde hair and glowing blue eyes’ hit Beast Man right in the face.’ He types his answer on her laptop beneath the lie she attempted to sell him. She doesn’t look at him.

He waves at her, unsuccessfully trying to get her attention. Finally he gets out of his seat and walks over to her, gently wrapping his arms around her. Good old Bow.

She exhales, her breath coming out as a shudder of barely contained emotion. Her throat feels thick.

‘Maybe this whole thing is too soon.’ He types on his phone. She blinks past the tears in the corners of her eyes to glare at him.

‘2 and a half years. It was 2 and half years ago.’ She leans over to type it out on her computer. She pounds the keys so hard part of her thinks they might get stuck.

‘There is no time limit on recovery.’ His face is full of concern. 

She balls her hands into fists and looks him right in the eye.

“ _I’m fine_ .” She is not weak. She is not weak. She is _not weak_.

‘No one would think less of you--’ she stops reading halfway through his next message.

“ _I would think less of me!_ ” she signs, but the anger she’s trying to convey loses some of its bite when he has to ask her to sign it again.

They stew in silence for a few moments.

‘Nobody saw your face… right?’

Her arms are folded tightly across her body. She chews her lip, slowly shakes her head no.

He pushes his pointer finger outwards from his chin, the sign for ‘sure’, his brows pulled together in a question. _You sure?_

She thinks about it.

Octavia...maybe? But unlikely. She grabbed Adora from behind when she threw her. It was dark and chaotic. Everyone was busy running or fighting each other.

Everyone except for Catra.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments water my crops, feed my family, and repay my debts. Please do not let my family starve.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Spoken dialogue appears like this"  
> ' _ **Signed dialogue is like this'**_ **  
> **  
> 'A typed conversation is like this'

After she assures Bow that she’s okay and promising to update Angella as soon as she can, she ushers him out the door.

She showers, washing dust and dirt and traces of someone else’s blood down the drain.

When she finally climbs into bed the clock reads 7:12 AM.

She dreams of dark places and flashing neon lights and blurry faces and _voices_ , murmuring to her, words she can’t decipher, but she can feel their urgency seeping into her skin, embedding itself in her bones, they want to talk and she wants to listen but she _can’t._

Next time she wakes it’s 11:00 PM. She slept for 16 hours.

Adora rubs her eyes and picks up her phone, scrolling thru her messages. They’re all from Angella or Bow, asking where she is, how she’s doing, what happened, or variations on that. There are a few more from when she was asleep, but they don’t contain the same sense of urgency as the others ‘just checking in to make sure you’re okay.’ ‘You still sleeping? Good. Message me when you’re up.’

She messages Angella to let her know that she’s okay.

Almost immediately, she gets a text back.

M _: Call me._

Translation: Get on the private line.

Translation: Now that I’m not worried about you, I’m angry.

Translation: You screwed up.

Adora pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting back the headache that’s creeping up on her. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable, so with a sigh Adora pads out into the living room/kitchen to retrieve her laptop.

She pulls up their private chat log.

 **Adora:** ‘I’m here.’

 **Angella** : ‘What happened?’

So Bow didn’t tell her, then. Adora doesn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

 **Adora:** ‘Skeletor and Shadow Weaver’s factions started a fight. I was caught in the middle.’

 **Angella:** ‘And you transformed?’

Adora winces.

 **Angella:** ‘Bow told me you were okay but stopped short of real details. Are you really okay?’

 **Adora:** ‘Yes, I am fine. I was caught in the crossfire, an adrenaline spike made me transform.’

 **Angella:** ‘Did you black out again?’

Adora balls her hands into fists. She closes her eyes and counts her breaths.

 **Adora:** ‘Yes.’

 **Angella:** ‘Do you remember anything?’

_Blue and yellow eyes. The flash of teeth. A spatter of blood. Her knuckles splitting from impact._

**Adora:** ‘Bits and pieces.’

 **Angella:** ‘Did anyone see you?’

She bites her lip, weighs the pros and cons.

Finally,

 **Adora:** ‘Yes.’

 **Angella:** ‘We have to end this operation immediately. I have to do damage control. I have a friend in the Tracking department I can ask for a favor.

 **Adora:** ‘No, Angella, I can do this.’

 **Angella:** ‘I won’t let you continue with this operation if it serves such a risk to your personal health and safety.’

Adora resists the urge to throw the laptop across the room.

_I am not weak!_

She can’t let Angella see her get mad.

 **Adora:** ‘I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do this. Please don’t stop me now. I’m okay, really. I promise.’

She flashes back to dry heaving into the toilet bowl.

 **Angella:** ‘If someone saw you, it’s only a matter of time before the Department of Unregistered Magical Practitioners finds you.’

 **Adora:** ‘I think they’re going to have a hard time with this one.’

 **Angella:** ‘Why?’

 **Adora:** ‘Only one person saw me.’

 **Angella** : ‘One person is all the Department needs.’

 **Adora:** ‘This person isn’t interested in making life easy for the Department.’

 **Angella:** ‘Who are they, Adora?’

 **Adora** : ‘It’s Catra.’

They wrap up the conversation with Angella begrudgingly agreeing to allow the operation to continue at least a little while longer, if only so Adora can find out how much of the incident Catra knows.

Just as they’re saying their goodbyes Adora spots an unopened letter on her countertop from her apartment complex. There’s a pink sticker attached to it. She grimaces.

 **Adora** : ‘One last thing’

 **Angella:** ‘Yes?’

 **Adora:** ‘Do you know if there’s any way I can take some cash out of the money you’re setting aside for me…?’

 **Angella:** ‘I’m afraid not. It’s risky enough as it is, putting aside funding like this. Once you’re back on the Force we can explain it, but in the meantime if someone finds you are receiving money from an anonymous source it will draw questions. It could be linked back to me. That would ruin all of our chances of this operation being a success.’

 **Adora:** ‘You’re right.’

Of course she is.

But her bills don’t care about who is right or wrong.

 **Angella:** ‘Are you already out of your savings?’

Adora winces.

That was another lie she’d told, in order to get Angella to agree to this job.

 **Adora:** ‘There’s some left before I get desperate.’

She says, like she isn’t already.

 **Angella:** ‘That’s good to hear. I’m sure if you really need, Bow will be able to help you out.’

 **Angella:** ‘I’m sorry that I can’t do more.’

 **Adora:** ‘It’s okay, you’re already doing plenty.’

 **Angella:** ‘Take care of yourself, now. Don’t be afraid to take a few days off if you need them. I know that transforming into She-Ra is hard on you.’

 **Adora:** ‘I’ll see if I can get in contact with Catra and get back to you as soon as I can. Tomorrow of the next day.’

It’ll be a cold day in hell before Adora takes time off.

She jumps into a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top, applies some light makeup, grabs a protein bar, throws on her jacket, and exits the apartment.

She has a very specific destination in mind.

* * *

 

The Alibi Bar is Horde owned and operated and has been for years now. It was originally part of a metal welding factory, but was trashed during the Hybrid Riots. It lay empty for a time, and was eventually purchased by up and coming Industrial tycoon, Hordak. The rest is history.

It smells of smoke and something acrid, but Adora doesn’t have to cover her nose the way she used to. Her head is held high as she pushes through the front doors.

She slides into her usual seat. Smiles at the bartender.

Adora has been haunting this place for the past four months. She is waiting for her chance to get friendly enough with one of the Horde members to breach the organization. Four months, no dice.

But tonight is going to be different.

Adora is playing on her phone when feels the counter top vibrate near her hand. She looks up to see the bartender, Scorpia, sliding a cosmopolitan over to her. The drink is her usual.  
Except that Adora hasn’t ordered anything yet.

She looks down at it, her brow furrowed in confusion. She looks back at Scorpia and puts her thumb to her chin, and then wiggles her pointer finger in the sign for “who?”

Scorpia smiles and shrugs.

  
Adora makes the sign for “house”. Scorpia shakes her head. So it’s not on the house, then. She wants to ask another question but Scorpia’s attending to another customer. Adora sighs and sucks the juice from the lime that came with the drink. Scorpia’s a sweetheart and Adora loves her, but sometimes being unable to communicate with her is frustrating. Not that Scorpia doesn’t try. It’s just that having claws instead of fingers makes sign language somewhat tricky.

A sudden motion in Adora’s peripheral causes her to look over.

And there she is.

Catra.

She’s dressed in a form fitting black t-shirt, a red leather jacket, and ripped maroon skinny jeans.

_Oh no. She’s hotter than I remember._

_Oh._

This.

This is…

Well.

Despite coming to this location with the very specific intention of speaking to Catra, Adora is caught off guard. It’s 1:00 on a Monday morning. She didn’t actually expect to run into anyone. Oh Gods, what’s she going to say? Okay, just relax--

While Adora is mentally scrambling, Catra takes a seat on the stool next to her. Her blue and yellow eyes are half lidded.

 

Her lips start to move and Adora instinctually zeroes in on them. Her brain snaps into gear, honed by years of training.  
Catra says something that looks like “You come here pretty often.”

The Alibi is Horde owned and operated.

Adora knew who Catra was at the club in part because of the many nights she spent in this very bar.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed me.” Adora replies, turning back to the bar to sip the Cosmopolitan.

She’s been coming here almost every night for four months. Surely Catra isn’t so unobservant as to have never noticed her before.

There’s a rapid motion in her periphery again. She tilts her head to see Catra waving.

“Don’t ****** me, I *** *** *** bought **** ***** drink.”

Adora rolls her eyes.

Catra says something else but Adora isn’t even trying to pay attention this time.

Then Catra does something that surprises her.

“ _Why did you save me?”_ The signs are a little slow, but their meaning can hardly be confused. Adora blinks rapidly a few times, trying to process.

 _Saved_ her…? Adora didn’t do anything to save her--did she?

* * *

 

_A hand on the back of her neck, the grey slab of oncoming concrete--_

_Stepping forward, shaking off the dust. Octavia, ignoring her, striding towards the ruined steps, striding towards the rubble, striding towards the figure pinned beneath._

_She-Ra violently changes her trajectory._

_Hitting Beast Man’s face, breaking his nose, blood spurting forth._

_Octavia grabbing her from behind--_ again-- _and throwing her down the steps. Her back hits the rubble, hard. She barely registers the pain. A movement to the side. She looks. Locks gazes with mistmatched eyes._

_She-Ra ducks out of the way just as Octavia slams into the rubble with a massive broken pole._

_The impact sends cracks across the piece of debris, breaking off chunks._

_It’s enough for Catra to wiggle out._

_She’s halfway free when Octavia grabs her, yanking her out of the hole. Catra reaches forth and swipes viciously, claws raking the skin across Octavia’s eye. She cries out in pain, but to her credit, she does not let go._

_At least, not until She-Ra sweeps her feet out from beneath her._

_Catra springs free of Octavia’s grasp and leaps off of the railing of the stairs, disappearing into a panicked crowd._

* * *

 

She-Ra didn’t act to save Catra.

She-Ra did it to punish Octavia.

“ _I didn’t do it to save you. I did it because I hate that bitch Octavia._ ” Catra’s teal and yellow eyes blink rapidly a few times, and then she taps her palm with the tips of her other fingers several times in rapid succession.

“ _Again_?"  
Adora sighs, then turns to face Catra and repeats her signs.

“ _Where do you know  Octavia from, anyway?_ ”

“ _She was a sergeant at the Police Academy for years.”_ Adora has to finger spell ‘sergeant’ out a few times, but Catra gets it.

“ _Right,_ ” she snaps her finger in indication of understanding. “ _I forgot she used to work there, before she came to us._ ”

Catra looks at her carefully, one arm resting on the bar counter top. The look in her eyes is so intense Adora feels like she’s being taken apart and examined, layer by layer. It makes her whole body tingle. She manages to keep the blush from her face, but just barely.  
She stares back at Catra, determined to give as good as she gets.

“ _A Horde bar is a strange place to find BMPD’s prodigal daughter._ ” Catra signs out every word, and the ones she doesn’t know she finger spells.

“ _I haven’t been with the Force for four months._ ” She replies hotly, but this time she’s turned in her seat to face Catra properly

“ _Adora, right?”_

“ _And you’re Catra._ ”

“ _Looks like we’ve both done our homework._ ”

When Adora doesn’t immediately reply, Catra adds,

“ _You’ve fallen pretty far._ ”

“ _Are you calling your own bar a dive?_ ” Adora asks, but the smile on her face gives away the tease. She can’t believe it. She’s actually enjoying banter with one of the Horde’s most important operatives.

 _“Just because I’m Horde doesn’t mean I own this bar_ .” Catra answers, her signs sharp and fast. “ _But I do know the owners… which means I get as many free drinks as I want.”_ Her grin reveals two rows of sharp white teeth. “ _Do you want another Cosmo?”_

 _“Not right now…”_ She notices Catra is staring at her again, still grinning _. “Why are you looking at me like that?_

 _“Because,”_ Catra signs, then she leans in close, and when she speaks she does so slowly and with wide movements so that there will be no mistaking her words, “I have always wanted to fuck a cop.”

Adora blinks rapidly, pulling away in shock. Her stomach absolutely did _not_ just flutter with butterflies. She did _not_ feel those words go straight to her core. Her face. Is not. Red.

(It did. They did. It is.)

The catwoman throws her head back and _laughs._ It’s the first time Adora’s been able to get a good look at the rows of sharp teeth lining her gums.

She composes herself.

Picks up her drink.

Leaves the counter.

Catra stops laughing suddenly, perhaps surprised by her reaction. Adora doesn’t look back. She moves over to a corner near the bathrooms where a classic jukebox sits. She mindlessly flips through song labels. Does this thing even work, or is just for show?

A moment later Catra appears, moving to lean against the jukebox. Adora doesn’t look at her.

“ _Are you--_ ”

Adora glares at her.

“If you wanna screw a cop, go screw Octavia.”

Catra grins. Adora notices that her nose crinkles when she smiles.

“ _Someone has a smart mouth._ ”

“ _I could say the same about you._ ”

Adora returns to thumbing through the jukebox tracks.

“ _Can you hear anything at all?_ ” Catra signs.

“A little.” She says, sipping her cosmo. Catra taps one claw against the side of the juke. Adora ignores her staring.

“ _You have magic._ ”  
  
There it is.

What she’s been waiting for.

Adora glances over her shoulder quickly.

“ _Who have you told_?”

Catra licks her bottom lip, her eyes half hooded, looking very satisfied with herself.

“ _So far… nobody._ ”

Adora silently thanks the Gods and the Stars.

“ _But you… you are a hot topic of conversation right now_ , _baby._ ” Adora rolls her eyes.

“ _That’s the sign for a literal, actual baby._ ”

“ _Would you prefer sweetheart?_ ” Adora smacks Catra’s hands to make her stop signing, and wishes with all her might that looks could kill.

But the deities aren’t listening to her right now it seems, because Catra does not in fact drop dead.

“ _Why haven’t you reported me yet?_ ” Adora questions.

Catra examines the back of her claws, her tail sways casually back and forth behind her.

“ _And let the DUMP have you?_ ”

The DU--oh, right. For a moment she forgot that’s what most folks call the Department of Unregistered Magical Practitioners. They really should’ve put more thought into their name.

“ _It would be pretty ironic, if DUMP’s number one wanted criminal turned out to be their very own rising star Adora Grayskull-- sorry. FORMER rising star._ ”

Adora bites her lip, eyeing Catra. If she were going to report her, she would’ve done it already.

“ _But I think… you will be much more useful out here than in the House of Darkness*._ ”

“ _So you’re blackmailing me._ ”

“ _Blackmail is such a harsh term._ ” Catra tuts. “ _I was actually hoping it wouldn’t come to that._ ”

“ _How do you mean?_ ”

“ _Well, you’ve been coming here for a while…_ ” So she _has_ noticed her. “ _And after the way the Fuzz kicked you out… seems to me like you’re harboring a grudge. Seems to me like maybe you’ve been looking for a way to get back at them.”_

Adora grabs Catra by the front of her jacket and slams her against the back wall.

You think you know me? She wants to say; she hopes her actions convey her words (she can’t make this too easy, or it will arouse suspicion).

Catra, cool as ever, smiles up at her.

Genuine frustration grips her. Will _nothing_ phase her? Adora wants to wipe that stupid smirk off of her face.

Without pausing to think about it, she leans in and kisses her.

This, at last, seems to get a reaction. Catra goes stiff as a board. Adora can’t help but smile against her lips. She starts to pull back, but Catra, it seems, is determined to have the last word.

She feels the sharp prick of Catra’s claws as she winds her fingers into Adora’s hair, pulling her down against her. Her fangs graze Adora’s bottom lip for a moment, the threat hanging unspoken, before pulling her into her mouth and sucking gently and _oh,_ she had forgotten. How good this could be.  
  
She keeps her hands fisted in Catra’s shirt, but presses her hips forward a fraction, firmly sandwiching Catra against the wall. The butterflies in her stomach riot so aggressively she swears she can feel them all the way up to her throat. She can feel Catra’s breasts against her forearms. She pulls back to angle her head and dive in once more when a a low rumbling vibrates against her arms. Staccato breath slide over Adora’s lips. Catra...she’s laughing.

Adora pulls back. Catra swipes her tongue over her teeth. Somehow the blush gracing her cheeks doesn’t make her look any less composed. Adora has a feeling she can’t say the same about herself.

Catra _grins._

“ _Was that a ‘yes’?_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *House of Darkness is a location in He-Man. It is a pyramid where an evil sorceress was imprisoned. In this fic it has been reappropriated into a prison for magic users.
> 
> Comments water my crops and feed my family and pay for my life support, please keep em comin


	4. Chapter 4

“ _ Was that a ‘yes’? _ ”

Catra’s grin is completely shameless.

The  _ nerve _ .

She thinks she’s in control?  _ Think again. _ Adora pulls Catra forward a fraction only to slam her back against the wall. 

_ Just wait until you’re looking at me from through the window of your cell. We’ll see who’s laughing  _ then.

A sudden vibration between her legs (just a little too far up to provide the satisfaction that she’s craving) brings the realization that Catra’s hip is slotted between Adora’s thighs. She pulls back in surprise at the sudden powerful rush of desire.

“ _ Excuse me. _ ” Catra signs, reaching into her pants pocket to withdraw the device. 

“Hello?” Catra’s eyes remain glued to Adora’s, so she sees it immediately when her irises contract. 

“What?” Catra diverts her gaze. For a moment it looks like she’s going to try to pull away from Adora’s grip, so she tugs Catra upwards onto the balls of her feet to remind her who is in charge. 

Catra’s eyes widen. Adora smirks, enjoying a moment of pride, before she realizes that Catra (more dexterous than Adora anticipated) managed to lift a leg to wedge a foot between them and is now using her unsheathed back claws to dig lightly into Adora’s belly.

“****** **** ******* **.” Catra speaks into her phone. Her face is cold and hard. 

Adora narrows her eyes. Catra gives her look that just says ‘ _ Seriously?’ _ And yeah, she kinda does, but… she’s supposed to be getting on Catra’s good side. Slowly, Adora lowers her to the ground. 

Catra pulls away from Adora’s grip and starts to pace the bar. 

Adora picks what remains of her cosmopolitan off of the jukebox and watches Catra. Her tail is flicking back and forth rapidly. Her lips curl up over her teeth as she speaks to the other person on the line, a snarl wrinkling her nose.

“******* ***** ********.... No… ******* ****** ….. **** …… ***** ****** **** *** me! **** ***  _ hate _ me!” As Adora finishes her drink she wonders who might be calling Catra at 2:00 AM on a Monday morning. She doesn’t look too happy… her boss, maybe? A coworker? It must be. It’s not like Catra has any friends or family. At least, not that Adora’s heard of… could it be a girlfriend? It’s a credible theory. Catra’s been known to have them. Not that they ever last long.

Catra stops pacing and puts a hand on her hip, tail still twitching. She looks right at Adora once more.

“***** **** ***....... Okay…. **** *****. ********  ****** ***** ***** **. *******. Bye.” She hits the ‘end call’ button.

“ _ Scorned lover? _ ” Adora signs.    
Catra glares at her, and then pulls back her lips and… ? Adora isn’t really sure.. What… 

“ _ Did you just hiss at me _ ?”

Catra crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“ _ No. _ ” Her ears are pinned back.

“ _ You did.” _ Adora cackles. “ _ You tried to hiss at me! _ ”

“ _ I DID hiss at you. _ ”   
“ _ If a tree falls in the forest without anyone to hear it, does it still make noise _ ?”

“ _ Of course it does. Shut up. _ ”

“ _ O-K.”  _ She smirks. 

“ _ Come on. Let’s get out of here. _ ” Catra signs, padded palms sweeping out in the gesture for ‘here’. 

“ _ Wait-- _ ”

“ _ No time. _ ” Catra turns and strides towards the bar’s exit. 

“****** *** ***** **** ****?” Scorpia asks. Adora is too busy scrambling to pick up any of their conversation. Catra’s angry and in a hurry-- probably not looking to take Adora home for a one night stand. She hopes. Not that Catra isn’t hot--  _ Literally stop thinking. Right now.  _

She makes her feet follow Catra towards the exit, pausing only to wave goodbye at Scorpia.

* * *

 

They don’t make it.

The door glides open, silhouetting a slim figure. They pause only for a moment before crossing over the threshold. As they do the bar lighting shimmers over planes of interlocking red scales. He’s dressed in a finely pressed three piece suit. He’s tall, but slim.

Adora recognizes him immediately.

Rattlor.*   
He’s one of the leaders of the very creatively named Snake Men. 

“*******. ***** ******* ******* you.” Catra says. 

While her face is as impassive as ever, the fur at the base of her tail has started to rise ever so slightly. The tip twitches back and forth.

“****************************************.” It’s almost impossible to lip read Snake Men. Too much hissing. She can’t even tell where one word begins or the other one ends. 

Rattlor is flanked by two other Snake Men, and though they are somewhat larger in stature, they’re also wearing expensive business suits. 

One of the two has on a black shirt with a white vest, exposing his arms which end in  _ literal snakes. _ __  
That must be Squeeze.    
She’s heard about him at the precinct before. He’s disliked even more than most of the more humanoid snake men.

The trio look past Catra. Adora glances over her shoulder. The bar is pretty much dead. 

“****************************?” Rattlor looks back at Catra. “********.” He starts to turn around.

“********** change ***** ****** ****.” 

Rattlor stops. His tongue flickers out, but otherwise he remains motionless. 

“*****.” Catra reaches into her jacket pocket and withdraws a tiny baggy of white crystals.

Stallos.

He turns back to her. After a long moment, he holds out a hand, palm up.

Catra places the baggy in it.

He pockets the drug.   
Rattlor’s emerald green eyes land on Adora.

“*******************************?”

“****************... *********?” Squeeze. He narrows his eyes and stares at Adora, watching her closely. 

Suddenly Catra slides a hand down to the small of Adora’s back. 

“*****************. ***** ******* *************.” Catra smirks. Adora can feel her warmth through her jacket. Rattlor and Squeeze’s posture relax slightly, and the sudden tension in the room evaporates.

“**********!” Catra yells over her shoulder at Scorpia. The bartender nods, and the three snakemen push into the bar. 

“***** ******* ********** ******.” Catra says to the group. Then, her hand still on Adora’s back, she steers her towards the bathrooms. She hates not knowing what’s going on. 

“ _ What-- _ ”

“ _ Go. Go. _ ” If she wants any chance of finding out what’s going on she has to follow instructions. So she lets Catra guide her.  

Adora is ushered into the bathroom. She crosses her arms over her chest and watches, unconcerned, as Catra bolts the door behind them. Catra’s claws are lethal, but Adora is still confident she could take her in a fight. 

When she turns around Catra doesn’t bother beating around the bush.

“ _ They want details about The White Woman from the club. _ ”

Adora moves her arm horizontally, touching all of her fingers together in the sign for “ _ And? _ ”

“ _ And they might figure out it’s you. Did you see how S-Q-U-E-E-Z-E looked at you?” _

“ _ You’re the only person who saw my face. _ ”

“ _ If they see these?” _ Catra grabs Adora’s wrist and she instinctively wrenches it away. 

“ _...Sorry.” _ Adora grimaces, rubbing her elbow and feeling awkward. “ _ But so what if they do see them? _ ”     
If Catra is bothered by the way Adora flinches away, she doesn’t show it.   
“ _ Your knuckles are bloody. There was a big fight last night. They could make the connection. _ ”

“ _ Maybe I burned them on the oven. _ ”

“ _ Do you take out your brownies with the BACKS OF YOUR HANDS _ ?” Okay, she has a point. The bandages very clearly envelope her knuckles. But that doesn’t change the fact that she wants-- _ needs _ \-- to be in the loop on this.

“ _ I’m staying. _ ”

“ _ Why?! _ ” 

“ _ They’re here about me. I want to know what’s going on. _ ”

“ _ You can’t wait for me to tell you later? _ ” 

Adora catches Catra’s gaze.

“ _ You would do that…? _ ”

Catra looks down to the side, one ear twitching. 

“ _ I mean. Maybe. _ ”

That’s--no. No. Even if she can’t understand what they’re saying, Adora feels so anxious and bottled up, it would kill her to have to go home and sit on her hands while she knows this meeting is happening.

She points at herself, then makes a ‘Y’ with her one hand and thrusts it downwards in the sign for ‘stay’. 

“ _ You’re really going to---?”  _ She uses a sign Adora isn’t familiar with. Adora makes her finger spell it. 

“ _ Insist. _ ” She demonstrates the correct sign, but Catra just waves her off with ‘ _ whatever!’ _

“ _ Yes. I insist. _ ”

“ _ Fine.Take off your shirt. _ ”

Take off her---?

“Excuse me!?” Adora yelps. This is not the direction she expected this conversation to go.

“ _ I have to make sure you don’t have a bug. A W-I-R-E.” _

“ _ Seriously? _ ”

“ _ No not seriously. I just want you to flash me your tits. _ ” Catra rolls her eyes. 

“ _ As if you would be so lucky. _ ” Adora retorts. 

“ _ Listen, the only thing worse than R-A-T-T-L-O-R finding out that you’re the White Woman is him finding out a cop is bugging his conversation. _ ”

“ _ I’m not a cop anymore! _ ” 

“ _ Yeah, sure. Start getting naked, baby. _ ”

“ _ Will you PLEASE stop using that sign. _ ”

“ _ No. _ ”

“ _ You look like an idiot. _ ” Adora signs in frustration and she shucks off her jacket.

“ _ My specialty. _ ”

Furious, she throws her jacket right at Catra’s face. The feline picks it off and uses one hand to comb through her ruffled hair. Adora crosses her arms over her chest as Catra pokes through her pockets.

“Hey!” Adora shouts when she sees one shiny black claw cutting open a seam in the lining. Catra’s ears turn her way but otherwise she makes no notice of the protest.

“ _ Jacket is clean. _ ” Catra tosses it over one shoulder. “ _ Shirt time. _ ”

“ _ I hate you. _ ”

“ _ You could just leave, if this is really so terrible for you. _ ” Catra shrugs.

Adora glares with as much righteous indignation as she can muster, and then she crosses her arms in front of herself and grabs the hem of her shirt. 

She throws the garment right at Catra, who doesn’t seem to mind that she has to take it off of her face. She is shameless in her search. Blue and yellow eyes rake over her skin and Adora feels goosebumps rise. She stares back defiantly. She forces down the feelings of anxiety and self consciousness that threaten to crawl up her throat like so many spiders. She holds them back. 

Adora can feel Catra’s eyes on her skin. On the bright purple bruises kissing her ribs. On the group of freckles near her left hip. On the scars she doesn’t remember getting, cutting a sharp white line directly down her sternum, on the scars she  _ does _ remember getting, chewed up tissue on her shoulder from a blast of acid, countless tiny nicks from teeth and claws and blades and bullets. 

Catra stands with her weight on one leg, hip cocked, one arm tucked under the other. She makes a swirling gesture with her finger, indicating for Adora to turn around. Hate burning in her heart, Adora does so. She’s seriously doing this. Turning her back on the enemy.

At least she still has her bra on.

Fists clenched at her sides, she rotates, forcing herself to go slowly. She refuses to show Catra how uncomfortable she’s made her.

The sudden sensation of  _ something _ at the back of her neck makes her jump what must be 6 feet into the air. She twists, smacking Catra’s hand away and following through with a sharp cross punch to the woman’s face, which she just barely ducks away from in time.

“ _ Jumpy much? _ ” Catra scoffs. Adora glares daggers.

“ _ If you EVER touch me again-- _ ”

“ _ You didn’t seem to mind it so much earlier. _ ” She flashes back to the sliding of lips, the soft sigh of breath, the quietly building need--

“ _ Don’t. _ ” She thrusts her thumb away from her chin repeatedly.  _ Don’t, don’t, don’t. _ She feels like crawling out of her skin.

“ _ Calm down, will you? _ ” Catra doesn’t look at her. She holds out Adora’s shirt. 

“You’re clean.” She says. Or it could be ‘glee’. Or ‘Orleans’. But the first interpretation makes the most sense. 

Adora snatches back her shirt. She’s cool. She’s calm. She’s collected. And if she almost puts her shirt on inside out in her haste, nobody has to know. She is. Calm.

“Jacket.” Adora says.

Catra glances at her, but doesn’t hold her gaze. She hands it over. Once she’s fully dressed again Adora lets out a long breath. 

Catra taps her claws against the glass of a painting that’s hanging against a wall. An idea hits her.

“Your gloves.” She says. Catra’s ears swivel and she looks at Adora.

She’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. The leather gloves will hide the scrapes on Adora’s knuckles. It takes half a second, but Catra catches on quick. 

“ _ Not a bad idea. _ ” 

“ _ Would it kill you to give a proper compliment? It’s good. It’s a good idea. _ ”

“ _ I have no idea what you just signed. _ ” 

Adora isn’t sure if that’s true or if Catra simply can’t give a straight compliment. Whatever. She accepts the fingerless gloves that Catra hands over. She sits down on the toilet lid and peels off the bandages. She doesn’t wince when she accidentally rips off some of the scabs and causes the wounds to bleed anew. 

She tosses out the old bandages and washes her hands in the sink. 

“ _ Hurry up. _ ” 

“ _ I am going as fast as I can. _ ” I could go faster if I didn’t have to pause to sign at you, Adora thinks. “ _ They can’t wait a few minutes? _ ”

“ _ They can, but only because they think I’m fucking your brains out. _ ”

Adora throws one of her wadded up, bloody bandages at Catra.

“ _ Gross. _ ” 

“ ** _I’m_** _gross?_ ” Adora scoffs. 

“ _Whatever…_ _Are you seriously going to stick your bloody hands in my gloves?_ ”

“ _ Do you want me to sign, or do you want me to put these on? _ ” 

Catra crosses her arms and leans back against the wall, her tail tip twitching.

The gloves wouldn’t fit on Adora’s hands if she still had the bandages on. In fact the gloves barely fit  _ without _ the bandages on. She can  _ feel _ the leather squeaking as it struggles to stretch over her palms.

“ _ I’m going back out. _ ” Catra signs. Before Adora can respond, she’s slipped out the door. That woman is infuriating. 

Adora kinda loves it.

She finishes putting on the gloves. They’re uncomfortably tight. Her hands aren’t  _ that _ big, are they…? Whatever. She glances in the mirror and grimaces at the sight. Flyaways halo her face. Her shirt is a bit lopsided, her face is still bright red high on her cheeks. She certainly  _ looks _ like she was just well fucked. 

She takes a moment to tidy herself, then walks out the bathroom with her head held high.

* * *

 

The Snake Men are tearing bloody strips off of a carcass laid on their table. The stench  _ reeks _ . Adora has to bite her bottom lip to keep from gagging. Whenever a fly shows up Lashor snaps it out of the air with his long green tongue. Gross.

It makes an interesting picture, the three large reptilian soldiers huddled around the table. None of them is shorter than 6’. Rattlor sits between Tongue Lashor and Squeeze, giving them the appearance of two meaty bookends. They have napkins tucked into their collars and they eat with their hands. Catra is leaning back in her chair, hands in her pockets, one leg folded across the other. She sits impassive, lightly amused, uncowed by the clear physical imbalance of the table.

Adora tries not to feel impressed.

It doesn’t work.

When Catra catches sight of Adora she grins wide. She turns in her seat and pats her lap. Adora wants nothing more than to wrap her hands around her neck and choke the life out of her. Instead, she walks over and perches herself awkwardly on Catra’s thigh.

“*************************,” Rattlor’s forked tongue flicks in and out. 

Adora can't even read Catra's lips. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

 

* * *

 

The discussion goes on for at least half an hour.

It’s indescribably boring.

For the most part, everyone ignores her. 

One of Catra's clawed hands rests on top of Adora's thigh. She feels her skin crawl beneath her jeans, but she doesn’t dare remove it while the Snake Men are still watching. 

Scorpia comes by at one point to clear off the table, smiling the entire time. Adora uses the distraction to push Catra’s hand away. Her arm swings from the back of the chair. To Adora’s relief, she doesn’t try to touch her again.

Finally things are looking like they’re wrapping up. The Snake men are standing and gathering their jackets. Adora jumps up as well, eager to be free of Catra’s lap.

The moment she does, Lashor’s green and yellow tongue jumps out at her. She reflexively snatches her hand out of his shot, but it puts her immediately within Squeeze’s reach. His weird snake arms loop around her shoulders and haul her back. Her heart jumps into fifth gear and she aims a vicious donkey kick for his shin. There’s a rush of air beside her head as he gasps. She doesn’t pause to celebrate the victory; instead, she sinks her teeth into his flesh. Warm blood fills her mouth and gushes past her lips. Instead of releasing her, the snake arms tighten their grip until she can barely breathe. Her ribs are a blinding white pain. She ignores them. She bites down with more pressure, trying to twist in his embrace to deliver another donkey kick--

A gentle touch on her cheek draws her attention. Catra pulls her hand back, then hits the edge of one flat palm against the other. 

“ _ Stop. _ ”

She can’t sign properly on account of the bindings, but her fingers are still visible beneath the coils of green snakes. She finger spells instead.

“W-H-Y”

“ _ I am making… agree. A D-E-A-L.” _

_ “I C-A-N E-S-C-A-P-E.” _

_ “I’m sure you can, but if we do this my way it won’t start another gang war.” _

Her jaw muscles burn from sustaining her bite. She glances at Rattlor, who is standing to the side, adjusting his cufflinks. Tung Lashor glares at her, but makes no move to interfere. 

Adora lets go.

She spits wads of red blood onto the bar floor beside her. Blood rushes to fill the wound. It spills hot onto her neck. She doesn’t care. 

“You can’t have her.” Catra signs while she speaks. CAN’T HAVE.

Seriously? Adora isn’t some toy to be traded around. She’s more than a little tempted to bite Squeeze again, just to prove her independence. Somehow, her desire to maintain peace wins out over her stubborn pride. 

“She is not part of our deal.” NOT PART OUR D-E-A-L.

“******************************************” Rattlor hisses. Adora can feel Squeeze’s blood soaking into her jacket.

“ _ Slippery fucks are twisting my words. _ ” THAT SLIP-SLIP FUCK TWIST MY WORD. Catra’s eyes narrow but she doesn’t say anything out loud.

“The deal is off the table if you take her.” is what she does say, simultaneously signing: D-E-A-L OFF TABLE IF (point) TAKE.

“*****************************.”

“We both know it’s not about the girl.” WE BOTH KNOW THIS NOT ABOUT GIRL.

“**************************************”

“I won’t give you something for nothing.” I WON’T GIVE YOU SOMETHING FOR NOTHING.

“**********************************************************************************.”

“You’ll get the spell after you send our lab a sample. You’ll also have Basillia.” She says, translating while she speaks.

“*************************”

“You don’t have to trust my word. You can trust my sense of self preservation.”

“************”

“Offer me something.”

“***************************”

“For the girl? That’s hardly a fair deal. I’ll tell you what.” Catra’s tail sways back and forth almost lazily. “I’ll call in some debts. Get you the fresh meat you need. Give me 24 hours.”

“**********************?”

“Close enough.” She shrugs. “Better than your usual, at any rate.”

Finally, Rattlor looks to Squeeze. He nods his head once. The thick coils slowly release their iron grip. Adora lands on her feet, mouth bloody, fists clenched, ready to fight. She inhales and her ribs crackcrackcrack in her chest as they settle back into place. She doesn’t wince; she won’t let the Snake Men see her vulnerable. She won’t let Catra. 

Rattlor shakes hands with Catra. 

“********* doing ******** ***** you.” Catra’s toothy grin is anything but friendly.

The trio turns towards the exit. Adora feels a surge of satisfaction when she notices Squeeze is still bleeding heavily.

Catra walks up beside Adora.

“ _ That wasn’t so bad-- _ ”

Adora twists on her foot and _ decks _ her.

Catra stumbles back a few paces, knocking into a table. She touches a hand to her lip; it comes away bloody.

“ _ Was that entirely necessary? _ ” 

Adora doesn’t deign to answer. The fire in her eyes will have to be enough. 

Catra spits blood onto the floor. 

Adora turns on her heel and walks over to the bar. Scorpia’s face is creased with concern. Adora gives her a weak smile and shrugs. She splays her fingers and holds her hand out flat, thumb pressed against her chest. ‘Fine’. I’m fine. It’s fine.

She steals a pen from by the register and writes a note. She hands it over to Scorpia, and then, without looking back, heads out into the night.

The note:

Scorpia: Give this to Catra. Also tell her she’s impossible. 

(202) 456-1111

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rattlor and the snake men are from previous iterations of the MOTU franchise. The Snake Men appear in both He-Man and She-Ra.
> 
> Rattlor from the 2002 reboot of He-Man:   
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/heman/images/1/1e/Rattlor2000.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20111102215016  
> Squeeze:   
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/heman/images/d/db/Rocksssqueeze.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20111102215333  
> Tongue Lashor:  
>  https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/heman/images/d/db/Tungvsteela2.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20111102215200 
> 
> On the wikipedia for the snake men it is canonically stated that they like to eat people while they are alive. 
> 
> ALSO: This fic will be going on a brief hiatus while I spend my time preparing for Clexacon. Next update will be somewhere around March 16th. Thanks for your patience!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra comes to Adora with an offer.

A whole week passes before she hears from Catra.

 

(Unknown Number): u busy 2morro?

(A): That depends who's asking

(Unknown Number): Catra.

(A): Catra who?

(C): Adora I will find you and murder you

(A): I don't know any Adora

(C): Suck my dick

(A): You don't have a dick

(A): Wait do you?

(A): No don't answer that I shouldn't have asked oh my gods

(C): How about you come over and find out?

  
(A): I can’t uh

  
(A): I don’t have a phone

(C) : ...Smooth.

(C): Listen. You want to find out who killed Hordak.

 

Adora, previously slouching on her sofa, sits up.

 

(C): So do I.

(C): We can talk more in person.

  
(C): Be at this address tomorrow at 12:00PM. (Location attached)

  
(A): Ok

  
(A): ...Are you going to tell me what happened with the Snakemen

 

(Read: 3:23 PM)

 

...Well fine.

 

\---

 

She considers not showing up.

She really does.

She doesn’t want Catra to think that she can be yanked around.

 

She goes.

 

At 12:00 PM she’s standing at the entrance to a small cafe in upper Bright Moon. It’s… cute. Clean. There are flowers out front. A little wrought iron gate. Dainty outdoor glass ornaments hanging from wires that shine in the sun.

She thinks back to the rusted metal walls and single flickering fluorescent light of the Alibi.

What a difference.

 

“Can I help you?” One of the waitresses asks.

 

“Table for two?” Adora replies, holding up two fingers.

 

“**** ******* ***********.... **** *****.” Oh Gods. Just because she can talk doesn’t mean she can hear.

 

“Sorry, I’m…” she makes the sign for deaf, moving her pointer finger from her ear to her mouth.

 

“****?”

 

“I’m deaf.” Ugh.

 

Understanding washes over the waitress’s face. She pulls a pen and pad of paper out of her apron.

 

OUTSIDE OR INSIDE?

 

“Outside.” Why not? It’s a nice day.

 

The waitress shows her to a seat and hands over a menu. Adora glances at the time. 12:03. Catra should be here any minute.

  
A group of fauns with brightly colored hair settle down at a table across from hers. One with curling ram horns flashes her a warm smile.

 

The restaurant is buzzing with the lunch hour rush.

 

The waitress comes back a few minutes later but Adora waves her off. She’s waiting for Catra before she orders.

 

Adora drums her fingers on the table. Watches the restaurant patrons laugh and talk. Wonders what kinds of lives they live that they can come out to an expensive restaurant for lunch on a Monday like this.

 

The group of fauns orders their meal. The appetizers come and go. Another group finishes eating and leaves. A new one takes their place. Food is carried in on plastic trays, wafting through the courtyard. Adora’s stomach rumbles.

 

It’s not until almost 12:30 that she finally gets a text.

 

C: Running late. Order me anything with fish in it. Skip the greens, my digestion system can only handle meat. thx

 

A: how late?

 

It's already half past.

 

Her phone doesn't buzz again.

 

She shakes her head. The next time her waitress stops by, Adora orders their meals.

 

15 minutes later their food is brought out to the table. 5 minutes after that, Catra finally slides into her seat.

 

“ _I am starving._ ” She signs, picking up a fork and immediately attacking her salmon.

 

“ _I almost left._ ” Adora signs, annoyed. It’s 12:50.

 

“ _Yeah but you didn’t._ ” Catra grins cheekily and Adora wants to punch her.

 

One of the fauns casts Catra a look that could sour milk.

 

“ _Why here?_ ” Adora questions.

 

“ _Why here what?_ ” Catra scowls, using one hand to hold her fork.

 

“ _Why pick here to eat lunch._ ”

 

“ _Because we won’t run into anyone I know._ ”

 

They eat without signing for a few minutes. It's strange, Adora thinks. She doesn't feel pressed to make awkward small talk with Catra. It feels comfortable.

 

 _Careful,_ a voice in her head warns. _She's a criminal._

 

“ _Hordak. Do you know who killed him?”_

 

Catra’s brows stitch together and she taps her fingers against her opposite palm for ‘again?’

 

“ _Who killed him?_ ”

 

Catra shakes her head.

 

Adora fingerspells it out. M-U-R-D-E-R-E-D.

 

“M-H-X-D-E-X-E-D?”

 

“ _Killed._ _Ended. Iced._ ” Catra’s face remains scrunched. Adora sighs and draws her finger over her neck in a last ditch effort to communicate ‘murdered’.

 

Nothing.

 

The lightbulb in Adora’s head finally goes off.

 

“... _You’re messing with me._ ”

 

Catra has to hold up a hand to her mouth to hide her smile, but there's nothing to mask the crinkle of her eyes or shake of her shoulders.

 

“ _Don't laugh at me._ ”

“ _It's cute to watch how hard you try._ ”

 

“ _I don't have to put up with this._ ”

 

“ _You won't leave._ ” Catra smiles.

 

“ _Why wouldn't I?”_

 

“ _Because you're curious_.”

 

Adora hates how right she is.

 

“ _You were fired for refusing to drop the investigation. You're clearly invested._ ”

 

Adora crosses her arms and leans on the tabletop. The gesture says, ‘Well? I’m waiting.’

 

There’s a pointed pause while Catra languidly licks her fingers.

 

“ _No. I don’t know who killed Hordak. But I want to find out. And I want you to help me._ ”

 

Adora is formulating her response when their waitress returns suddenly. She holds out her paper pad to Adora .

 

SORRY, YOU NEED TO LEAVE. SOMEONE ELSE NEEDS THIS TABLE.

 

“******? ****** *******.” Catra asks, sitting up straight in her seat. The waitress is clearing away Catra’s half finished meal.

 

“I’m sorry, **** ********* ****** people.”

 

One of the fauns at the other table catches Adora’s eye and then quickly looks away.

 

Adora fishes in her purse for her wallet and hands the waitress a 20 mark chip to pay for her salad.

 

Catra is still in her chair, one arm thrown over the back.

 

“****** ******** a right ******* ****.” What is she arguing with the waitress for?

 

“ _Come on_.” She signs at her. Catra's heterochromatic eyes dart from her to the woman.

Finally she stands up. Grabs her jacket off of the back of the chair. Looks right and the waitress and says,

“Keep the change.” And throws down a crumpled 100 mark chip.

Like it's nothing.

Like that's not groceries for a week for Adora.

 

“ _Come on._ ” Catra is still glaring at the frazzled waitress when Adora gently takes her arm and guides her towards the exit.

 

\---

 

“ _Racist bastards._ ”

 

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Catra is making a very big stink about being asked to leave the restaurant.

 

“ _You heard me._ ” Catra signs, the corner of one lip curled up in a snarl.

 

“ _They were full, Catra. They needed the table._ ”

 

“ _They let you sit there for nearly an hour without bothering you. Then I show up at 2 seconds later, we're being thrown out. She didn't even let me finish my damn meal._ ”

 

Adora thinks back to the side long glances the fauns cast her as soon as Catra sat down.

 

“ _I'm sure that it wasn't--_ ”

 

“ _It was._ ”

 

Adora isn't going to bother arguing with someone who refuses to listen.

 

They walk in silence for a few minutes before Catra pulls them into another cafe.

 

She collapses into a chair, all long limbs and bent joints, unapologetic in the prickly way she fills more space than necessary.

 

They order coffee.

 

Well, Catra does. Adora asks for a cup of water.

 

The stillness stretches between them. She closes her eyes. Embraces the lack of sensation. The darkness. The silence. Enjoys the warmth from the sun on her face as it shines through the window. Inhales deeply; the ache in her ribs is almost gone.

 

The table vibrates.

 

Catra’s fingers are tapping at the table top, her eyes focused on Adora.

 

They stare at each other for a few moments.

 

“ _The Snake Men wanted to eat you._ ”

 

She scoffs.

 

“ _Honest._ ” Catra sips her coffee.

 

“ _That’s just a racist rumor._ ”

 

“ _Except it isn’t._ _Not with these guys._ ”

 

“ _Sure._ ”

 

“ _It’s part of some ritual they do, I guess. Usually they use animals, but they prefer people. Well, humans._ ”

 

“ _...Right._ ”

 

“ _I guess they saw you hanging out with a disaster like me at a dump like the Alibi and figured hey, nobody’s gonna miss this one._ ”

 

She thinks of Bow, with his big smile and dark eyes. She thinks of his two dads. She thinks of the soft way Angella signs, how Adora would catch her up late at night mimicking Etherian Sign Language vids. She thinks of Angella’s husband. She thinks of Angella’s daughter. She thinks of people who are missed.

 

Of people who should be missed, but aren't. Of people the Snake Men have taken without anyone noticing. She wishes she bit Squeeze a second time.

 

“ _You didn’t kick their asses though, that was good._ ” Catra states, like she's on the same wavelength but on the opposite end. She's up while Adora is down. They move in mirrored harmony.

 

“ _Relations with them and the Horde are tense, then_?” She questions. It would be bad if a war with the Snake Men broke out on top of the one between Shadow Weaver and Skeletor.

 

“ _Shadow Weaver wants to get in bed with them before Skeletor has the chance. The Snake Men are supremacists. Shadow Weaver gave them the impression that they would be meeting with Rogelio--he’s one of ours, reptilian blood-- and she told ME I would be meeting with our Borg ambassadors._ ” Catra’s claws elongate as she flexes her fingers, signs becoming sharper. “ _Bitch set me up for failure. But I worked out an agreement anyway. So for now they’re tentatively giving Shadow Weaver their support._ _Happy_?”

 

No, but she doesn’t expect Catra will give her much more than that.

 

“ _Ok._ ” She signs. “ _Why do you want me to investigate Hordak?”_

 

“ _I want US to investigate, you and me. And because I think either Shadow Weaver or Skeletor finished him...or were responsible for his end, at any rate. And if they were….well. There’s this rule in the Horde, see. If you kill a high ranking officer without permission from On High, you will be executed._ ”

 

“ _Wait--there’s a power higher than Hordak?_ ”

 

“ _Yeah but it’s not well known._ ”

 

“ _Why are you telling me about it_?”

 

“ _Well, for one who would believe you? For two, I trust your curiosity to keep you in check long enough to help me solve this case._ ”

 

“ _You’re really putting a lot of stock into my desire to know the truth, aren’t you_?”

 

“ _I’m good at reading people._ ” Catra grins. _Hopefully not TOO good_ , Adora thinks.

 

“ _How would this work?_ _Between you and me._ ”

 

“ _Well first we go back to my place, open a bottle of the finest Faun wine money can buy, put on a little music--_ ”

 

“ _Stop that._ ” Adora chastises. Gods. If the circumstances were just a _little_ different…

 

“ _We pool our shared resources and skills. We visit locations and interrogate suspects together._ ”

 

And give Adora the chance to meet more crime bosses and gather the evidence she needs in court to convict them? Hell yes.

 

She sticks out her hand.

 

“ _I’m in._ ”

 

Catra’s fangs gleam as she smiles. She claps Adora's hand between hers and shakes.

 

“ _Welcome to the squad, partner._ ”

 

\---

 

“T _he first thing we need to do is prove that it was a murder. If Hordak just overdosed on Stallos, game over_.”

 

“ _We need to get the autopsy file_.” Adora signs.

 

“ _Do you know where it is?_ ”

 

“ _Yeah. That’s not the problem. But getting to it…it’s not in the most convenient of locations._ ”

 

Catra immediately understands what Adora is alluding to.

 

“ _Then I guess it’s time to break into the Bright Moon Police Department._ ”

  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter won't be done until sometime after Clexacon (April15th). Expected date is April 19th or 20th. Thanks for sticking with this, everyone!

A behemoth of corrugated metal and rust looms over cracked concrete and decaying iron. More than half of the windows are shattered. Chain links and scraps of barbed wire litter the ground like confetti long after a party has concluded.  
A door on the side is marked with “EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY” in faded text. Catra pushes it open without trouble.

 The interior of the warehouse is as large as it is filthy. Junk is scattered all over the floor. There's an kitchen table covered in countless nicks and scars from abuse over the years. The same can be said for everything else in the warehouse, including the people.

 Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle sit on stained sofas and yellowed lawn chairs around an empty barrel, laughing.

 “Sup shitdicks.” Catra greets.

 “Where the hell have you been?” Lonnie snaps.

 “Out.” Catra tosses back. She doesn’t bother gauging Lonnie’s reaction as she passes. She’s halfway up the metal stairs when she realizes.

 

The door to her room. It’s open.  


Fucking shit.

 

“Alright, confession time.” Catra barely manages the keep the snarl from her voice. “Who went into my room?”

 She stares over the railing and is met by a sea of blank faces.

 “Why would any of us even want to go in your stupid room?” Lonnie scoffs and Catra wants to tear out her throat.

 “How the hell should I know? But my door is open now and it was locked when I left it!”

 “Catra.”

 Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle go stiff and still.

 It’s like all of the heat is sucked out of the room.

 She turns.

 Standing in the open door to her room is Catra’s least favorite person. 

“What do you want, Shadow Weaver?” Her tail flicks back and forth. 

“Is that really how you treat your superior officer?”

“Apparently.”

“I thought I raised you better than this.”

“I guess not. Did you need something?”

Shadow Weaver inhales slowly, like she’s mentally counting down from ten. Finally:

“I received a call from Rattlor.”

“Whoop dee fucking doo, good for you.”

“ _Mind your tongue, Force Captain._ ” Red lightning crackles briefly across Shadow Weaver's knuckles. Guess the counting thing didn’t work.

“I got a call from Rattlor.” She repeats again. “Notifying me that the requested sample was forwarded from their lab...You haven't been making promises you can't keep, have you, Force Captain?”

Catra presses her lips into a line.

“No.”

“And have you been making promises on the behalf of others?”

“I spoke with the authority Hordak granted me with my promotion to Force Captain.”

“Do you have magic, Catra?”

No. She doesn't. And shadow Weaver knows that. Catra doesn't want to answer, but as the silence stretches out to the point of pain she caves.

“No.”

“Then why, pray tell, would you offer to send them a spell…? Is there someone else with magic you know…?”

She doesn't say anything but she doesn't shy away from Shadow Weaver's gaze, either.

“No…? Oh, so then you were expecting ME to do this work…?”

Yes.

But she doesn't say that.

They wouldn’t even be having this fucking conversation if she were Lonnie, or Rogelio, or even fucking Kyle. 

Shadow Weaver gives up on waiting for a response.

“Rattlor tells me there is a celebration taking place at the Taipan in a month. Unfortunately, they refuse to enter negotiations without you there. ” She sneers. Catra doesn’t bother to hide her smug delight.

Instead of commenting further, Shadow Weaver says,  
“Remember your dues are to be paid at the end of this week.” And with that, she glides down the stairs and out of the warehouse.

The trio on the ruined furniture visibly relax.

“She gives me the willies…” Kyle murmurs.

“I’ll be in my room. Don’t bother me.” Catra slams the door closed behind herself. She collapses into her bed, stares at the ceiling, and tries not to text Adora.

* * *

 

Log Entry 1

Detective Adora Grayskull  
(Date stamp)

Monday morning, approximately 2.06AM. 3 members of a violent supremacist group known as the “Snake Men” entered the Alibi bar.

Names: unknown

Aliases: Rattlor, Squeeze, and Tongue Lashor.

(descriptions as follows)

Trio were greeted by Catra and Scorpia in addition to myself.

Committed crimes as follows:

1 count of possession of illegal narcotics

1 count of sale of illegal narcotics.

 

No video or audio surveillance is available, but any of the witnesses could be subpoenaed for testimony.

 

Additional notes:

Snake Men responsible for number of missing persons cases? Claims from Catra they kill and consume the flesh of humans as part of some ritual. Worth directing Netossa towards.

 

* * *

 

Angella is cooking.

Or more specifically, Bow is cooking in Angella’s kitchen while she and Adora sit and talk at the counter, pretending to help with prep.

Over the past week Adora has been working with Catra on a plan to get Hordak’s morgue file from the precinct. It’s been...more fun than she’s willing to admit. But she doesn’t tell Angella that part.

“ _I **t’s a risky plan,** _” Angella signs when Adora’s done laying out all the details. In the background Bow slides chopped basta roots into a boiling pot of water.

“ **_Any plan designed around breaking into the Police Department is risky._ ** ” Adora shrugs. “ **_But this is our best bet._ **”

“ _I **’m sorry there isn’t more I can do to help.** _ ” As if she wouldn’t be risking her job (as if she isn’t _already_ risking her job) by sticking her neck out for Adora (again).

“ **_No, no, don’t worry about it._ ** ” Adora waves her off. “ **_You’ve already done so much for me._ **”

More than she deserves.

Angella smiles tenderly and there’s something about the softness in it that reminds her of--

“ **_I want you to know that I'm proud of you._ **”

Oh, gosh. That’s. It’s a lot. It’s one thing when Bow gets all mushy with her but Angella...Adora looks away uneasily. She hasn’t done anything to warrant such praise. Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Angella shifts the subject.

“ _**You’ve been sleeping alright? And I am sure with Bow around that you are eating well**. _”

“ **_Yes, yes, I’m fine!_ **” She says it like it’s a reflex. It is.

“****** pass me ***** *****?” Bow asks, brows furrowed as he leans over a cookbook. Angella gets up from the counter to hand him a bowl filled with a mix of ingredients.

“ **_And you’re still working out? It’s good to get out of the house._ **”

“ _**Yes, yes, I still go running in the mornings**. _” And at night, when the nightmares won’t let her sleep.

“ _**Alright. Good. It’s important to maintain a healthy routine**. _”

They have a nice meal together. Bow tells them about how things are going at the shop his dads are running, shows them a new design for a compound bow he’s working on, answers all of Angella’s questions about how things are going with Perfuma. Angella tells them a funny story about one of the rookies mixing up the coffee at the station.

Afterwards while Bow is clearing away their dishes Angella pulls Adora aside.

“ _**Would you come with me for a moment?** _” Adora obeys.

She follows Angella through her huge mansion of a house, a huge empty house filled with the quiet echoes of life. Shadows. Reflections. Memories. It is too much space for one woman.

“ _**Here we are**. _” Angella pulls open a drawer from a mahogany box. From within its depth she withdraws an elegant golden bracelet studded with small moon stones.

“ _**It’s imbued with a passive protection charm. A powerful one. It protects its wearer from manipulative magicks**." _

“ _**My mother gave this to me**. _ ” She signs in that floaty, elegant way of hers. “ _I was going to give this to-- to my own daughter, when it was time. Now...I want you to have it._ ”

Panic flares in Adora’s chest.

“ _**No, no, I couldn’t possibly--no**. _ ” Take it? Take that heirloom and _replace--_? No. She couldn’t possibly. Not after what she did.

There’s a look on Angella’s face that Adora can’t quite place. Disappointment, maybe. Relief, perhaps?

Either way, she does not offer Adora the bracelet again.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

_ “ _ **_You ready to do this thing?_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Do you even have to ask?_ ** ” Catra grins.

They push through the double doors of the precinct as a single unit.

Adora is halfway across the lobby when Catra grabs her arm. 

“******** *** ******.” She's turned her body towards the front desk Clerk.

“Stop.” She says. Her scowl lifts when she recognizes Adora, but she does not smile.  _ “ _ **_You….here?_ ** _ ” _ She signs. Poorly. Her hair is in an impeccable bun and her uniform is sharp enough to cut.

_ “ _ **_I got a call from you guys. You found some of my old things, I'm supposed to pick them up_ ** _.” _ The woman tightens her jaw. Adora tries to remember her name. Jessica? Jocelyn? Jennifer? 

_ “. _ **_..Again, slow_ ** _. _ ” the clerk signs. Adora repeats her message. Catra examines the back of her claws. 

It takes way longer than should be necessary but finally, FINALLY she understands. 

_ “ _ **_...writing...in…_ ** _ ” _ The woman points at Catra, then at a clipboard. She wants Catra to sign a visitors form.

_ “ _ **_But--_ ** _ ” _ She scrambles for an excuse, but Catra swats her hands down and moves to accept the proffered clipboard.

_ “ _ **_You. Write_ ** _.” _ The clerk signs, tapping another clipboard insistently. 

Adora walks over and accepts it with a sigh. It's policy to sign in all visitors, and she doesn't exactly work here any more. But she does still have friends here, and most of them would’ve waved her through without question. Will the clerk recognize Catra’s name…?

She glances over to Catra's form.

Name: McKhynleigh Khayrily 

DOB: 6/9/96

Occupation: Professional Dancer

Employer: Pussy Palace

Address: 69 Cougar Lane   
Purpose of visit: I came with Adora.

Time In: 1:10 PM

Time Out: Only if I’m naughty ;)

Catra notices Adora looking and  _ smirks. _

_ “ _ **_You can’t turn that in. What is--_ ** _ ” _ Adora glances at the officer’s name badge--Amelia? What? For real? No J?  _ “ _ **_...Amelia going to think?_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_She’s going to think you’re hooking up with a pole dancer_ ** _.” _

_ “ _ **_Oh, good. For a moment I was worried maybe you didn’t realize how much suspicion you’re arousing_ ** _.” _

_ “ _ **_Suspicion isn’t the only thing I’m arousing_ ** _.” _

_ “ _ **_I hate you so much_ ** _.” _

_ “ _ **_No you don’t_ ** _.” _

Rather than respond, Adora rapidly finishes filling out her own form and hands it off. 

Catra leans against the counter top, chest pushed forward, ass stuck out, tail tip flipping casually back and forth as she chews on the end of a pen. Does she HAVE to stand like that?

“**** ***** ******.” Catra says as she hands off the clipboard. Amelia accepts it with only a brief glance.

_ “ _ **_I-D?_ ** _ ” _ Amelia signs. Adora fishes hers out of her pocket. Catra does the same. Adora is shocked to see that it actually states ‘McKhynleigh Khayrily’ across the top.

Amelia scans over both of their badges for a few moments. She hands them two badges printed with their names and pictures across the front. 

“*** ***** ***** ****** badges *** **** leave.” Right. They won’t get their IDs back until after they’re checked out. Well, nothing can be done about it right now. Adora clips on her badge and turns to go.

As Catra reaches over to take hers she accidentally brushes Officer Amelia’s coffee cup. 

“*****!” Amelia exclaims, jumping up as hot liquid sloshes all over her desk.

“****, ***** SO SORRY,” Catra exclaims. “ **_Help her._ ** _ ” _ She signs. Adora glares at her but obediently walks behind the counter to help dab at the coffee with tissues and some napkins stolen from the nearby coffee machine.

They manage to soak up the worst of it.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Amelia keeps saying. “Really, don’t worry about it.” She seems annoyed but there’s no real anger. “**** **** ***** *********. Don’t worry ****** ****. It’s fine.”

“**** ****? *** I am so sorry!”

Amelia waves her hand half heartedly.

“It’s fine. You can go. **** **** ***.”

“***** ****.” 

Amelia sits back in her chair, flyaway hairs sticking out of her bun, dark coffee staining her formerly impeccable suit.

Adora grimaces. Why does she get the feeling that’s how most people look after an encounter with Catra?

Catra keeps apologizing over her shoulder until they’re finally around a corner and out of sight.

**_“Was that entirely necessary?”_ ** Adora signs. 

**_“Yes. Did you see the look on her face?”_ ** Catra bites her lip to hold back a smile. It's … frankly it's infectious. Adora can’t help it. She smiles too. And then Catra’s shoulders jerk with a chuckle. And then Catra is bracing herself against Adora as the two of them shake with full body howling laughter.

And she’s laughing because it’s funny, but… also because it feels good. It feels  _ so _ good.When was the last time she laughed like this?  _ Really _ laughed? And what’s more than that, when she shared it with someone else…?

“ **_Ok, ok_ ** ,” Catra signs, her shoulders still shaking. “ **_Ok. We should get a move on._ ** ”

“ **_You started it._ ** _ ” _ Adora chastises, but she’s still grinning.

“ **_I sure did. Now come on. Let’s get this show on the road._ ** **”**   
  
Adora leads them to a janitorial closet. 

“ **_Adora I’m flattered, but I’m not sure we’re at the ‘fucking in a closet’ stage of our relationship--_ ** ”

“ **_YOU suggested this! This is your part of the plan!”_ ** But she’s smiling, even as she elbows Catra in the ribs. 

Catra keeps a lookout in the hall while Adora withdraws a cleaning cart. Adora tosses her a cap, which she promptly pulls down low over her face. 

“ **_Meet you there._ ** ” Adora signs, and then takes off for the locker room. 

She arrives to find it almost empty, save for three women.

“Adora?” It’s Layla. Adora smiles. Layla would hold the door for her, or split the last doughnut, or get her coffee if it was on her way. Sometimes she would interpret a tricky conversation with a coworker. They would chat in the break room together.

“Hi.” Adora says with a wave. “ **_How are you?_ ** ”

“Oh my Gods.” Layla laughs, turning to her friends Flora and Lavelle. “*** **** ****** ***?” The other two grin at each other, then at Adora. She smiles uneasily. Layla used to sign whatever she was speaking so that Adora wouldn’t be left out.

“ **_What’s funny?”_ ** She asks. 

“ **_Oh, don’t worry about it._ ** _ ” _

Lavelle leans over and murmurs something to Layla. Flora says something in return that looks an awful lot like, ‘she’s deaf, you don’t have to whisper.’ But she could be wrong. She must be wrong. Why would Flora say that?

“ **_How’s work been?”_ ** Layla asks.

“ **_I actually haven’t found anything yet._ ** ” 

“ **_Aw, that’s really too bad. Have you considered applying for a security job at the Bimbo Mall?_ ** ”

“ **_No, but that’s a great idea! I’ve never heard of that mall before. Where is it?_ ** ” The women start laughing again and the uneasy feeling in Adora’s stomach increases. Then suddenly the trio turn their heads, snapping to attention. When Adora follows their gazes she sees Catra strolling into the restroom.

“******* ***** *****. **** ***.” Catra says, pushing her cart and wielding a mop. 

“**** **** …. ****.” Layla turns to Adora.  _ “ _ **_It was really great to see you again! We’ll have to get coffee sometime so we can finish catching up._ ** _ ” _

“ **_Yeah, okay._ ** ” Adora nods and flashes her a brief smile. “ **_See you later._ ** ”

Layla and the others pack up their things. When they head for the exit they glance over their shoulders at Adora, leaning in and giggling to one another as they disappear out of the exit.

“ **_I thought I said I would text you when it was clear to come in. What if they recognized you?_ ** ” 

“ **_I got tired of waiting._ ** ” Catra shrugs. 

“ **_Did you put up the ‘Closed for cleaning’ sign out front?”_ ** Adora asks.

“ **_No, I actually put it in one of the toilet stalls, where I knew everyone would see it. I assumed that was the most effective location.”_ **   
  
“ **_Oh good, because I told every woman I saw that I’m here to steal secret documents and sell Stallos._ ** ” If Catra’s going to be flippant about this then so is Adora.

Catra kicks out at Adora’s shin.

“Hey!” She yelps. 

“ **_You deserved it._ ** ”

“ **_You started it!_ ** ” 

“ **_That is absolutely a lie._ ** ”

“ **_Is not...hey, what are you doing? That’s not the right locker._ ** ” Catra’s made a beeline for Layla’s locker. She gives the lock a tug. It refuses to give.

“ **_This one. Flutterina always forgets to use her lock._ ** ” Adora points, but Catra is ignoring her. Instead, she’s pulling a thin tool from her waistband and sticking it into the keyhole.

“ **_That’s a police grade lock. It’s never going to--_ ** _ ”  _ The lock springs open. Catra looks at Adora.   
  
“ **_...Shut up._ ** ” Adora signs.

“ **_I didn’t say anything._ ** ”

“ **_No, but you were THINKING it._ ** ” 

“ **_Which one was Flutterina’s?_ ** ” Adora’s not entirely sure where Catra is going with this, but she points out the locker anyway.  **_“Open it._ ** **”** Catra instructs. Adora tugs at the lock and it falls off without any difficulty. Careless as ever, that Flutterina. When she looks up Adora notices that Catra is poking around at the janitorial cart. Seriously? Is now the time for...whatever it is she’s doing? Adora reaches into Flutterina’s locker and withdraws the blue beat cop uniform. She throws it right at Catra.

“ **_You are certainly making a habit of throwing clothing at me._ ** ” Catra signs, leaning down to pick up the articles of clothing. Adora just crosses her arm. Then, without any sort of premptive, Catra gets to work shucking off her clothes. Adora turns hastily. She doesn’t look. She definitely doesn't. She doesn't notice the lines of muscle along Catra's stomach. She doesn't notice the way Catra's hair falls in front of her face, or how her tendons flex in her arms as she pulls up her pants. She doesn't look at the line of fur that trails down Catra's chest and disappears beneath her waistband. Adora doesn't see the black bra that--

“ **_Enjoying the show?_ ** ” Catra signs.

“ **_No. I mean. I didn't see anything. What show? Shut up._ ** **”**

She turns 180 degrees so her back is to Catra. She's trying to think about anything  _ other _ than how physically attractive the damn woman is. Adora’s coworkers are always saying that Hybrids are gross. Greasy and unhygienic and sallow and unhealthy. But Catra--her fur has this healthy shine to it. She isn't gaunt. She might not be built, alright, but she looks lean. Compact. Powerful. No rashes or missing patches of fur or fleas or anything that people are always claiming that Hybrids have. She's--she's gorgeous--? Is it wrong to have that thought--?

Something hits the back of her head and she whips around.

“ **_Ready._ ** ” Catra signs. There's a pen on the floor near where it landed after it bounced off Adora. 

She looks good in a uniform, but her tail and ears are tucked away. With them gone and Catra’s toes tucked away into shoes, she can pass for human at a distance. Get too close and you notice the fine layer of fur over her skin. And the fangs. And the eyes. Her eyes are so striking. Not that humans can’t have heterochromatic eyes, but even so there is something about Catra’s--

“ **_Anything sticking out?”_ ** Catra signs. Adora jerks herself back to the current task. Disguising Catra. Right. Adora circles her. There is a bit of a bulge in the back of her pants where her tail goes. 

“ **_Your tail…_ ** ” Catra reaches back to adjust it to no avail. “ **_Nope.”_ ** She tries again. She simply displaces it. 

“ ** _Here...may I?”_** After she receives a nod in consent, Adora reaches over and pushes at the appendage, shifting the waistline down. It forces the base tighter against her backside.

“ **_Are you checking out my ass?”_ **

“ **_Yes, I am. You literally asked me to._ ** ” Adora shoots back.

“ **_...Alright, I’ll give you that one, Grayskull._ ** ” Adora smiles to herself as she finishes circling Catra, reaching over briefly to sweep off some lint from the uniform.

“ **_You could almost be a real officer._ ** ” She states when she’s satisfied with the transformation.

**_“I would make an EXCELLENT police officer._ ** ”

**_“Absolutely not._ ** ” Adora laughs. Catra doesn’t seem like the type who would appreciate the militant rules and regulations that accompany officer status. “ **_Alright. Let’s go._ ** **”**

**“** **_Hang on, there’s one more thing._ ** ” 

“ **_May I remind you we are on a schedule?”_ **

“ **_You may._ ** ” Catra replies, but does absolutely nothing to harry her pace. What is she  _ doing _ ? Okay she’s grabbing a can of something from the janitor cart, but to what end…? To...spray it on Layla’s locker, apparently. 

“ **_What are you doing?”_ **

“ **_Gluing your friend Layla’s locker shut._ ** ”

“Hey!” Adora yelps. “ **_You can’t do that!_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Why? You gonna stop me?”_ **

She thinks back to the way Layla turned and laughed. The shared sidelong glances.

Catra’s waiting for a response, blue-yellow eyes burning into her. It’s somehow so different from how the other women were looking at her. Finally Adora waves her hand dismissively, and pretends to busy herself with replacing Flutterina’s lock.

Once she’s finished, Catra strolls over to the janitorial cart and replaces the glue. 

“ **_Let’s blow this popsicle stand._ ** ” She holds her fist out. Adora reaches over and bumps her own fist against it, unable to help the smile that springs to her face.

“ **_Let’s._ ** _ ” _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me write faster v_v please feed me.


	8. Chapter 8

**_“I don’t know who will be on duty, but--”_ **

**_“Don’t worry about it. This will work.”_ **

**_“You put a lot of faith into your friend’s abilities.”_ **

**_“Of course I do. Where else would I put it? In the government? That’s a nice fucking joke.”_ **

She isn’t really sure what to say to that.

**_“Okay, I’m going to wait--”_ **

**_“Yeah I remember.”_ **

Well alright then.

She watches Catra’s back as she descends down the stairs to the evidence records locker.

\---

The attendant at the window looks bored.

“Hey. I'm here to check out some files from the--”

“Badge number.”

Adora was convinced that if the attending officer requested her badge number, they’d be hosed. Hers was deactivated. She didn’t remember anyone else’s, and even if she did, it would be immediately apparent that Catra wasn’t them when their picture popped up on the computer.

Fortunately Catra has a friend in the hacking business.

She gives him a string of numbers. He punches the info into the computer. In classic bureaucracy fashion, they’re hit with a loading screen.

“You would think there would be a database online for all this stuff, so people aren't always coming in and out.” She comments idly, looking past him at the endless rows of cardboard boxes.

“That would make it easier to steal.” He retorts. And he's right. Because if it was all online Entrapta would already have the file, and this whole trip would be moot.

She remembers the little smile on Adora’s face when she saw her gluing Layla’s locker shut.  
Well,

Almost moot.

Finally the loading bar maxes out and a window pops up.

“Alright officer…” he squints at her name on the screen “Keldor…” he looks closer, gaze flickering from one of Catra's eyes to the next. She stares him down. Doesn't say anything. Does he realize she's a hybrid? Technically there's nothing wrong with it, but _technically_ didn’t stop her from being kicked out of that restaurant, did it? Plus a hybrid cop is much more memorable than a human or fae. There are like, 3. Maybe. It made news when the first hybrid officer was accepted into the Force. Muttra, her name was. Dog hybrid, because of course. It was a big marketing scheme proclaiming that the police were pushing for greater ‘equality’.  
As if.

“Sign here and here.” He slides a clipboard through the window. She fills out the info. Slides it back.

“Hmm case 99234 dash c… “ he wheels his chair back. “in the far corner, over there.”

“Thanks.” She gives him a two finger salute and he buzzes her through the gate.

99234 is an open case on a bodega robbery.

 **_“Just in case someone notices a discrepancy and goes over the log. Throw them off the scent_ **.” Adora had said. Maybe there was something to be said about Brightmoon's 'best and brightest' after all.

08397...08397… Adora drilled this into her. 08397. There! She has to use a ladder to extract it from where it's wedged on a shelf between two other boxes.

She opens the top. There isn't much in there. Some photos. A syringe in a plastic baggie. Some pill bottles. A hanging folder.

Catra flicks through the files. Adora said what they really need right now is the autopsy report. And her case journal.

Which should be...aha, here it is. A quick glance down the stacks assures her that the officer is still at his desk.Then she takes out her phone and starts taking pictures. It’s boring as shit. But she gets it done.

Adora’s journal….she wanted it brought to her so she could copy it herself. Something in there she doesn’t want Catra to find out about, perhaps?

She photographs it, too.

What Adora doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

When she’s done she puts everything sans the journal back in the box. Reshelves it.

The officer out front notes the article number of the journal she’s taking as well as the time that she leaves.

\--

Adora waits for Catra in a bathroom stall. Bathrooms, along with the locker rooms, are one of the only places in the precinct that don’t have video cameras.

She’s starting to fall asleep against the partition (she really has not been sleeping well lately) when her phone buzzing startles her awake.

 **Catra:** Done.

Thank the Gods.

She walks out to meet Catra.

“ **_On to the next step_ **?” Catra signs. Adora nods in confirmation.

 **_“Which way?”_ ** Catra asks. Adora takes off, leading the way. As she does she reaches within her jacket to pull out a manilla envelope. Catra asked her to hang onto it.

She takes them towards the precinct’s captain's office. White fluorescent light beats down on them as they walk down the halls.

They pass one door and then Adora stops. Goes back. Adora glances in through the windows and noticed something. It's her. It's a picture of her. As She-Ra. She stops walking. How…? when…? It's angled from above. Maybe a street camera of some kind? Or someone in an apartment experimenting with amateur photography?

 In the photo her eyes are glowing, smoking blue. Her sword is clutched in her hand, in a relaxed position. In her other hand She-Ra holds a figure up before herself by their throat. It's too dark in the image to make out who they are, but Adora knows. She remembers. She was there.

 **_“What are you doing?”_ ** Catra signs curtly. Adora barely notices her.

The photo pinned to an evidence/timeline board. There are more pictures, string is used to connect points. Points with names and dates and...she edges closer. Into the office.

Above the grainy picture of her changed form’s face is a sticky note that reads

“UNKNOWN SUBJECT. CODE NAME: SHE-RA”

And listed below is information.

CLASSIFICATION: Striker 9, Changer 3, Brute 8, Blaster 7.  
TYPE: ???

STATUS

REGISTERED: N

THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME. Little to nothing is known about this subject, but her abilities appear to be extremely advanced. Records suggest that she may have been involved with the death of Glimmer Moon--

Adora skips the rest, looking over to the next image. It’s of a young woman with blonde hair, covered in flowers. Perfuma.  
CLASSIFICATION: Master 7, Mover 3, Shaker 3.  
TYPE: Plant Elemental.  
ABILITIES: Can control vines and make flowers bloom. An expert in horticulture. Can use plants to climb as well as create large ‘golem’ creatures.

STATUS

REGISTERED: Y  
THREAT LEVEL: VERY LOW.

HISTORY: Magic comes from lineage. Considered stable and on good terms with D.U.M.P. Runs an apothecary and greenhouse in Upper Bright Moon.  
  
After her there’s another image, this of a young woman with  Mover 3, Shaker 5, Changer 5, Blaster 3.  
TYPE: Water Elemental.

ABILITIES: Can change into a mermaid which grants her the ability to breathe underwater. Can endure incredible cold temperatures while in this form. Also can create moderately sized tidal waves and form focused jets of water.

STATUS

REGISTERED: Y  
THREAT LEVEL: VERY LOW.

HISTORY: Magic comes from lineage. Considered to be stable and on good terms with D.U.M.P. On call for the city’s fire department. Assists with hydro-electric dams and occasionally city sewage.

There’s a note on Perfuma’s file that reads “Initial eye witness reports suggest that the UnSub “She Ra”’s abilities are similar in potency to that only of lineage-developed wielders (known colloquially as “The Princesses”) and may in fact exceed them.

There were no cameras in the club 666, but it is believed she may be involved in the ongoing gang war between several factions of the Horde--

The note is partially cut off by another photo. It’s of She-Ra. The same one that she saw from outside of the office, but zoomed in so the pixels are grainy. It’s a blurry mess. She-Ra’s face is lit dimly by the light from her smoking eyes. She stares at the figure she holds. The woman. Her friend.  
Her victim.

A sudden force on the back of her shirt causes her to choke for a moment. Someone’s grabbing her, pulling her, pushing her, and she’s too disoriented to fight back. She trips over herself as she’s forced across the room. The ground reverberates with movement. There’s a flash of orange fur and blue cloth. It’s dark, now. There’s a palm clasped over her mouth. Catra. They’re in the closet and her back is pressed up against a bunch of coats. Stripes of light filter through the door and reflect off of Catra’s eye. She is looking right at Adora. Their chests are pressed against one another. there's just barely enough room for both of them with the door closed.

Adora pulls Catra’s hand away from her mouth. Catra glances over her shoulder. Its awkward but Catra manages to turn 180 degrees so her back is to Adora's front. Light from the office hits her eyes as she peers through the slats of the door. What is she so focused on? Adora leans forward and peeks through the slats. A shadow passes across the room and she nearly ducks to avoid it, as if it is a thing with physical substance.

It's Lieutenant Matam. He is gesturing with his hands, big sweeping motions and sharp little tics. Without context and from such a poor angle, she has absolutely no idea what he is saying… but he is speaking, she knows that, she can hear the low tones of his voice. He must be on the phone. But Adora can barely lip read in a well lit environment with a clear line of sight, so she loses focus. Catra, however, is still looking out the slate. her ears are pricked, swiveled forwards.  

Matam’s voice is a steady cadence. The sounds aren't distinct enough to parse out individual words however. Adora almost asks Catra to translate for her, but there really isn't enough room in this tiny closet.

She sighs, resigned to her fate. Catra startles suddenly, glancing at her. She holds a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Adora grimaces apologetically.

She doesn't know how much time passes while she sits there, pulling at a loose thread in her pants. It feels like ages. Being pressed up against Catra isn't helping matters either. Why do her hips fit so perfectly against Catra's ass? And why does she feel so tempted to pull her shirt up and run her fingers along Catra's sides?

 **_“OK. G O N E.”_ **Catra finally signs, and pushes open the door. They burst out, all but falling over each other. After Adora manages to right herself, she signs,

**_“What was all of that about?”_ **

**_“The She-Ra investigation.”_ ** Catra murmurs, eyes darting around the room. **_“They’re concerned that she--you, are joining in the gang war.”_ ** She uses the reflection off a glass cabinet to straighten her uniform.

 **_“Did they say what the picture on the board is all about…?”_ ** _Please say no please say no please say no--_

 **_“There isn’t time to discuss it here.”_ ** Catra replies. She’s right. Adora hates it when she’s right.  
  
Catra presses her ear against the glass door of the office. A beat. Two. Then-- she grabs Adora’s wrist and jerks open the door. And they’re outside, striding down the office halls together in perfect step.

 **_“Which office?”_ ** Catra signs.

 **_“What?”_ ** Her brain is still back in the closet, straining to make sense of the low noises she heard.  
  
**_“You’re thinking about how good my ass felt pressed against you in that closet, aren’t you?”_ **

“ **_No!”_ **Adora splutters, tapping her fingers in the sign for ‘no’ repeatedly.

 **_“It’s okay. I’m thinking about it, too.”_ ** Catra’s wink is downright salacious. **_“Now...which way is Captain Colton’s office?”_ **

**_“Right, ah, this way.”_ ** She starts to lead them again.

They arrive.

**_“Do you want me to--”_ **

**_“No, I got this.”_ **Catra knocks on the door and then pushes through.

Adora leans against the wall outside. She wants to know what the files about She-Ra said. And about what happened. Would it line up with what she remembers? The moments of stunning clarity? Would it fill in the blanks, the patches of white fuzz her brain has refused to repair?

The door to Colton’s office slams open. The sudden motion causes Adora to jump.

 **_“We gotta go to lockup.”_ **Catra signs.

 **_“That was fast.”_ ** Adora says as they make their way down the hall.

**_“I pulled a few strings.”_ **

Adora makes a mental note to put Colton on a watch list.

They arrive at the entrance to the holding cells.

Adora grabs Catra’s sleeve and jerks it, pointing excitedly.

 **_“What? What? What is it?_ **” Catra signs.

 **_“That’s my old desk…! Ew they put Jeff on it._ **”

**_“Why? What’s wrong with Jeff…? Do I need to glue his locker shut, too?”_ **

Adora laughs.

**_“You’re sweet.”_ **

Catra looks away, but Adora sees the freckles on her cheeks darken with a blush.

 **_“Hey look!”_ ** She grabs Catra’s hand and drags her over to a wall that has a huge scuff mark on it. **_“See that? That’s where I smashed a rapist’s head against the cinderblocks.”_ **

**_“Talk about police brutality!”_ **

**_“Hey!_ ** ” She smacks Catra lightly, offended. **_“It was self defense! He grabbed at my breast.”_ **

**_“Grabbed at your--? The prick copped a feel and you ONLY smashed his head into a wall?”_ **

**_“What happened to ‘police brutality’?”_ ** Adora laughs, rubbing her arm with her other hand.

**_“That was before I knew what he did to you! I would’ve killed him, if I were you.”_ **

“ **_So it’s okay that he’s a rapist, but if he touches me inappropriately, now that’s just devil worship_ **.”

Catra blinks slowly, like she thinks Adora’s an idiot.

“ **_Uh, duh_ **.”

Right.

She forgot. For a moment. That Catra’s an immoral criminal.

" **_I need to hand off these papers._ **" Catra signs.

“ **_I’ll make copies of my case journal while you’re gone._ **” Adora returns, taking the notebook from Catra. She heads for the old ink-stained copy machine affectionately dubbed “Edison” for it’s manufacturer. She pats it a few times, mentally asking it to please be kind to her today, and then feeds it the papers from the folder.

The process is blessedly smooth.

Edison gets to work, flashing and presumably beeping, and Adora is left to wait.  She rests one elbow on the machine’s lid, one foot bouncing against the white linoleum tile, looking idly on at her old stomping grounds.

“ **_That officer hit him!_ ** ” Adora perks up a little. Is...that woman signing? **_“He acted on reflex, he didn’t mean any harm._ ** ” She...she is! She’s speaking to an overworked detective (Adora is pretty sure his name is Bartholomew) through an interpreter. “ **_He was on his way to visit his brother’s shrine, for the Gods’ sakes. His brother who died during a shoot out because of this gang war! I already lost one son, and now you want to take away the other. How dare you.”_ **

**_“I am very sorry, ma’am, I understand you are already grieving. Unfortunately your son did flash sparks at one of our officers, and we could only interpret that as an aggressive magical act. Maybe if you speak with your lawyer you can find some technicality in the Registration and Restrictions Act--”_ ** but before the translator can finish, the woman is waving her hands at him to stop.

**_“That law is only for violent users! My son is an upstanding citizen. He has never been in trouble with the police in his life. It is I who should be pressing legal charges against you and your entire department, sir, for having the gall to hit my son!”_ **

**_“Ma’am, the officers who caught him had reason to believe that he may have been one of the Horde members who took part in the shooting--”_ **

**_“Horde member?? Horde member?! What? Because he has green scales instead of skin? Is that what this is about? Your rampant racism?”_ **

**_“No, ma’am, this is about your son not being registered with the Department of Practictioners.” Bartholomew looks like he’s one second away from rubbing his temples. “In accordance with the law he should’ve been tested when he turned 12, which he was not. Furthermore magical powers become increasingly volatile the longer they are left unchecked, and the more powerful they are, the more volatile they become. It’s clear that your son does not have control over his abilities. Had he been registered with the Department at the appropriate age, he would’ve been enrolled in a training program designed to keep his magical talents in check._ **”

The woman seems to deflate somewhat.

**_“You can’t at least give him a lighter sentence…?”_ **

Bartholomew grimaces.

**_“That would be something to take up with the judge, ma’am. Misused magic is a very serious offense.”_ **

Adora spots Catra in her peripheral. She’s walking through the crowded precinct with ease. It’s like the crowds of people aren’t even there...or like they’re all intentionally getting out of her way.

She gets out of her seat to meet her.

 **_“Let’s go.”_ ** Adora signs.

**_“Why? Something happen? Did Jeff do something...Jeffy?”_ **

**_“Just worried someone might recognize me and start asking questions.”_ ** She lies. She doesn’t look at Catra to see if she bought it. Doesn’t really care.

They return her case journal, Flutterina’s uniform, and their visitor’s badges without issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments pay my student loans and give me more strength to love my girlfriend with, please leave me some so i am nourished


	9. Chapter 9

If Catra has any questions, she doesn't ask.

Adora shoves her hands deep into her pockets, making it clear she isn't interested in discussion. The afternoon sun beats down hot on the pavement.

**_"I've got a base back in the Fright Zone. We can look over the files there."_ **

Magic is less common in hybrids. No one is really sure why. You'd think that would make it more accepted, not less but after--

There's a hand waving in front of her face.

**_"My place? Fright Zone?"_ **

**_"Oh, yeah. That's fine. I'll follow you."_ **They take off with Catra in the lead and it doesn't feel like she's losing anything. There's no fear in handing control over to this woman. Maybe that should be a red flag. Then again, everything about Catra is a red flag. That hasn't stopped her so far.

They say nothing to each other for miles.

They're in the heart of the industrial district and the sun's just past the edge of the horizon. Twilight settles in gently over the city, hues of blue and pink and orange mixing in the sky with billowing pillars of smoke. It's a beautiful poison.

Something glitters amongst the shadows of an alley. What could it--? Fragments fly everywhere and Adora winces out of reflex. Glass shards explode from a window bashed in by a figure with a bat. He's standing on top of a car, smashing it in. And he's not alone. There are three of them altogether. Well, four, if you count the a man on his back on the ground, one leg still in the driver's side of his open vehicle. One of the goons is kneeling and holding the man up by his collar. Another is throwing rocks through the windows of the auto shop they're adjacent to. The third is the one smashing in the windows.

Adora holds out an arm to stop Catra.

 **_"We have to do something._ **" She signs firmly.

**_"Yeah. we do."_ **

**_"We can't let this happen! They're brutalizing him! There's nobody else around-- wait. did you say okay?"_ **

Catras expression is withering.

Adora pulls out her phone.

**_"What are you doing?"_ **

**_"Texting the police."_ **

**_"You're...texting the police."_ **

**_"Well I can't exactly give 911 a quick phone call now can I?"_ **

**_"You realize the cops won't answer any reports from this part of town, right?"_ ** Oh. She hasn't thought about that. But...yeah. it makes sense.

Time to take things into her own hands, then.

She marches forward.

"HEY!" She yells, waving her arms.

Immediately the trio’s heads turn in her direction, snapped to her like magnets.

“Drop your weapons!” She shouts as clearly as she can, hoping she doesn’t botch it too badly with her accent.

The goon holding the man on the ground is covered in boils, his skin a vibrant magenta. The one standing on top of the car, bat held in one hand, is actually a fae. He’s got a huge rack of antlers, his fur is a brilliant white stained with spots of dirt and grease. The last one stands with the bat thrown over her shoulder, teeth too big for her mouth jutting out of his jaw. She has round black ears and dark grey fur. Some sort of dog hybrid. Bigger, though. Hyena maybe--?

Hyena-maybe is speaking.

“*** ******* ***** ***** ************* *** **?”

Uh. Uhoh. She turns around to look for Catra, hoping for a translation, but she’s...gone? Uhhhh

She pivots back around to see the hyena is striding towards her, absolutely fearless, muscles straining against her too tight shirt.

“I’m deaf.” Adora says, her foot itching to take a step back but she denies the urge. Three against one. She can’t let them know they intimidate her.

Suddenly she senses vibrations in the ground behind her and her heart jumps into her throat, her brain shuts down and her body takes over. She feels something sparking under her skin, somewhere between pins and needles and the sharp shock of static electricity. Moves up her arms in waves. It’s too fast to think about it. No time to process. She sweeps to defend against the oncoming onslaught, only to find it never arrives.

A stocky humanoid creature with huge claws and orange hair steps back, hands clutching at his face. One hand ends in a hook. Red rivers stream between his fingers. Where did he come from? Is he with these other guys? He must be, why else would he jump her? But there’s no time to deal with him, the hyena woman--Adora pivots just in time. Her sword vibrates with the intensity of a blow and she sees the hyena woman’s bat bounce away, deflected.

Energy crackles on her palms, a fierce pressure pleading for freedom. Adora’s summoned the sword, and now the rest of She-Ra wants out, too.

They Hyena woman stumbles back, eyes wide. Locked on the glowing blade in Adora’s hands.

The magenta mutant rushes in in her place, a knife glinting in one hand.

The thing about sword play is that killing is easy. Injuring without causing death? Now that takes true skill. That's an art.

Adora has never been very artistic.

But here, with this?

She's a renaissance painter.

The mutant lunges. She parries before he even has a chance to get close (he doesn’t have half her reach! What was he even thinking?), and his blade goes flying off.

The third fae steps in wielding a steel bat of similar caliber to his female associate’s. His white fur shines in the green fluorescents of the streetlights. There’s dense muscle hidden behind his slight frame because when his bat meets her blade the contact is SOLID.

The hyena woman elects to take advantage of her occupied state, throwing back her arms, ready to slam the blunt object onto Adora’s head and her muscles are SCREAMING at her to change, to shift into She-Ra--

Only when the woman slams her hands down, the bat is missing and all Adora feels is a rush of night air kissing her cheek.

In her peripheral she sees a flash of red.

She manages to break away from the fae only to deflect a blow from the claws of the giant furry man from earlier. He hasn’t managed to staunch the flow of blood seeping down his face, but he has cleared it out of his eyes.

She’s forced to fend off the two of them at once. The fae is more capable with the bat than she would expect, but not capable enough. A few more exchanges, testing his defenses, and she's figured out his pattern.

She needs an opening. It’s difficult to find one with the hook-hand man jumping in every time the fae begins to falter. They work as a team, but they’re not synchronized. Not synchronized enough, at any rate. The hook-hand man swipes at her and she dodges (he’s slow, fortunately) and she steps inside of his range. There’s half a heartbeat for shock to jump to his face before she slams her knuckles right into the three deep troughs Catra left in his face.   
He goes down.

But the defeat comes at a price. A blinding pain splinters out across her back like lightning, and she feels herself howl. The pulsing energy pushes towards the surface, threatening to break, to spill over, to set the surface of her on fire, for a moment it feels undeniable--and just as quickly the bright flash fades again to background noise.

There’s no time to nurse the pain. She twists back around to face the fae. She knows how he fights, now.

She has to end this soon.

When he's about to swing he telegraphs by pivoting his left foot. She blocks his next attack. His jaws part in a snarl. His swings become wild. Frustrated. He hits harder, maybe hoping her arms will tire of the impacts. But she's stronger than that.

He sweeps her blade out of the way and then rears back, the bat held over his head. She could gut him right now. She could slide the blade into his belly. Slip it into his ribs like a key sliding home into a lock.

Instead she kicks him right between the legs.

When he instinctively reaches down to cup his tender groin, she reaches forward and SLAMS her elbow right into the side of his head. He goes down.

Adora looks up to see Catra beneath the hyena woman, being held down to the ground. Her back claws are scrabbling at her attacker’s belly but she can’t get enough purchase--

She doesn't think. She just DOES.

She drops the sword, picks up the bat, and SWINGS. Blood splatters across the concrete like fat wet drops of rain. Adora drops the bat, alarmed. The hyena woman rears up, teeth gleaming, grabbing Adora by the front of her shirt and dragging her in and she eyes are bright in the night and her teeth are sharp and her breath is hot and it's right there on her _throat_ and-- the grip goes slack. For a second, she doesn't dare to breathe. Then she looks down. Catra, still on her back, holds the massive woman up with her hands. Blood gushes from the woman’s stomach and falls onto Catra like sick rainfall.

Together, they push her body to the side.

 **_“Is...Is she…”_ **Adora signs, her hands shaking so badly she can barely form the gestures.

**_“Big bastard. She should live. Maybe. Probably--shit.”_ **

**_“What--?_ **” Catra’s up, sprinting away. It’s then that Adora realizes--the mutant from before. The magenta one, who came at her with a knife. He’s gone.

And so is her sword.

There’s a flash of movement on a rooftop, a glint of metal. Catra takes off like a shot. Adora can do nothing but stand there open mouthed as Catra leaps at the wall. She grabs pipes, hauling herself up with effortless grace. Her red jacket lies on the concrete, leaving her muscles exposed both to the elements and Adora’s greedy gaze. Her dexterous paws find handhelds in the most unique places. She leaps off of pipes that by all means shouldn't support her weight. She is a magnificence to marvel.

There's a movement on the ground, the hyena woman rolling her head. Adora leans down to press her fingers against her neck. Her pulse is, fortunately, strong. The blood flow appears to have slowed as well. The lacerations must not be as bad as they look.

The fae and orange haired man are in similar states.  Out cold, but in no danger of death. She can't exactly speak to their mental states, but she will take what she can get.

* * *

 

Adora’s staring at the building that Catra disappeared over when there’s a touch on her shoulder. She jumps, sweeping with her blade. Catra jumps out of the way just in time. Or, almost just in time.

“Sorry!” Adora’s so shocked she actually verbally exclaims.

“Shit, Grayskull.” Catra remarks, pulling her shirt away from her body to observe the tear in the fabric. **_“You could’ve taken my head off.”_ **

**_“Well...I can’t exactly hear you approaching from behind, okay?”_ ** She huffs, suddenly defensive, because, really. What was she expecting?

Catra suddenly points at Adora’s hand and she realizes she’s holding her sword.

**_“I was holding that….Could you phase jump it this entire time?”_ **

She thinks about Catra's muscles flexing as she ascended the side of the building.

**_"Uhm. Maybe."_ **

**_"You're the worst."_ **But she's grinning as she elbows Adora in the ribs.

And Adora, she's still feeling that post-fight victory rush, relieved that nobody was too seriously injured, elated that they're making progress with the Hordak case… she’s in just the right mind for a little teasing.

 **_"You needed the challenge."_ ** Adora insists instead. **_"I'm just keeping you on your toes."_ **

**_"No, you just wanted an excuse to ogle me."_ ** Well that wasn't what it started out as, but maybe that’s what it turned into. But she can’t let Catra know that.

**_"You WISH. Arrogant, much?"_ **

**_"Oh I am. but it's well deserved."_ ** Catra signs back, picking up her jacket off the ground.

 **_"You don't wear shoes."_ **Adora signs.

 **_"Oh intelligent AND observant."_ **Her wide eyes and overly big grin make her sarcasm obvious.

**_"I assumed you understood a question when it was asked, but apparently you lack the social skills. Let me put it in simpler terms: Why don't you partake in footwear?"_ **

**_"Cramps my style. And my toes. Can you really imagine stuffing these bad boys into confined quarters?”_ ** She presses her foot against Adora’s stomach and flexes so that her claws elongate. If she were to add just a _little_ more pressure--

 **_“I can see how those might cause trouble with shoes.”_ **Adora signs. It’s strange. She should feel threatened. There are only a few layers of cloth between her and these talons that ripped out literal chunks from a woman’s stomach not moments ago. And yet.

**_“Hey, what happened to that guy who they were beating on?”_ **

**_“Took off, I guess?”_ ** Adora replies, scanning the deserted streets.

 **_“Not even a thank you. How rude.”_ ** Catra signs.

 **_“Who even are these guys?_ **” Adora asks, looking down at the set of bodies around them.

**_“Some of Skeletor’s people. We’re in Shadow Weaver’s part of the Fright Zone, and because of the war they think that gives them free license to terrorize people in this district….”_ **

Adora rocks back on her heels.

**_“I heard a fishing warehouse was shot up a few weeks ago. Near the Piranha Docks.”_ **

**_“Oh yeah, that was us.”_ ** Catra laughs. Actually laughs. **_“Skeletor was using it as a cover for a weapons importing base.”_ **

**_“What about the innocent people who worked there…?”_ **

**_“Nobody’s innocent. Now come on. Let’s get out of here.”_ **

Adora’s left to ponder Catra’s words as they take off deeper into the Fright Zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient while I work on this, friends! I'm planning to update every week on Saturday nights from now on. Give us a little more consistency. Thanks for reading! And as always, comments keep me fueled. Happy Pride <3


	10. Chapter 10

It’s dark when they arrive.

This is Adora’s first visit to the place that Catra calls home. Thus far they’ve conducted their business meetings either in neutral territory or from their computers.

It’s deep in the heart of the Industrial district, of course. She’s pretty sure that the Alibi isn’t too far from here. There aren’t any main roads that go past here, just quiet surface streets. The pavement is cracked. The huge stacks sticking out of rooftops are all stagnant, no sign of the smoke they sometimes spit out. The train tracks they cross are equally deserted. There are abandoned train cars and trucks scattered around the lot. Broken glass is everywhere. Graffiti litters the walls. ‘Task’, ‘zean’, ‘blink’, ‘forge’, ‘mosef’, ‘9 lives’, cartoon cans, faces, portraits of cell phones, eyes, faces, tetris blocks, the list is never ending.

Adora almost asks if Catra is sure that this is the right place. Who could possibly stand to live here?

**_“Keep up, slowpoke.”_ ** Catra signs, then turns to a door with a big “TRESPASSERS WILL BE--” and she can’t make out what the word originally was because on top of it is spray painted “VIOLENTLY EXECUTED”. How quaint.

She pushes through the door. A few floodlights are on. In the center of a large floor there’s a barrel with a flickering fire inside. There’s a ring of various seats stations around it, from lawn chairs to wooden bar stools to sofas. And on those seats are three figures.

**_“K-Y-L-E, L-O-N-N-I-E, R-O-G-E-L-I-O.”_ ** Catra signs, pointing to each of the people in turn.

“*** ****** *****?” Lonnie says, sitting up. Firelight dances across her smooth features, glinting off her hard eyes.

“Hi.” Adora says out loud.

“Hi.” Kyle replies.

**_“We’ll be in my room. Don’t disturb us._ **

“**** ***** **** *****?” Lonnie smirks, then turns when Rogelio offers her a high five.

“*** ***** ***.” Catra scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as she heads for the stairs. It’s funny, when it’s just the two of them she’s only too eager to tease Adora about sex. But as soon as someone else suggests it she gets surly.

At least Adora assumes they were making a sex joke.

Catra's room is an office overlooking the warehouse floor. There are blinds drawn to block sight, as well as blankets tacked up. In one corner there’s a mattress with disheveled sheets, a table and a fridge in another. A camp stove sits on top of some metal shelves. There’s clutter everywhere.

And somehow it doesn’t feel that dirty. There’s a distinct feeling of organized chaos to it. It feels like a nest more than anything else.

**_“You hungry? I’m hungry. How does Sefa sound?”_ ** Catra asks, plopping down onto a bean bag before she whips out her phone and starts tapping away.

**_“Sure._ **” Adora signs. She’s had her sword in her hand up until this point, hilt gripped in one hand. Now she drops it, lets it disperse into mist on the ground. Catra looks over from behind her phone.

**_“Where does it go?”_ ** She signs.

**_“What? The sword?”_ **

**_“No, my will to live.”_ **

**_“Har, har. I’m not actually sure? I’ve never really thought about it before.”_ ** There it is again. That withering look.

**_“What?”_ **

**_“You’re such a dumbass, Adora Grayskull. What kind of Sefa do you want?”_ **

**_“Anything. Surprise me. But make it big. I’m starving--”_ ** her eyes go wide as she sees the time on her phone. “ **_Wow it got late fast.”_ **9.20 PM.

**_“It’s not late.”_ ** Catra signs in return.

**_“It’s later than I thought it would be.”_ **

**_“Do you have a date or something?”_ ** Catra scoffs.

**_“If I did would you be jealous?”_ **

**_“Jealous of some guy going home with horrible blue balls?”_ **

**_“Ew, never suggest I'm into men again.”_ **

**_“Jealous of some girl going home with blue ladyballs?”_ **

**_“Please never sign ‘lady balls’ again.”_ **

**_“Lady balls.”_ **

**_“I hate you so much.”_ **

She perches awkwardly on the edge of the table.

**_“...I'll be okay here if you have to go.”_ ** Catra signs. Adora thinks. She thinks of her dark apartment. Thinks of her empty fridge. Her cold bed.

Of the bright eyes and sharp tongue across from her.

**_“I’ll stay for dinner, at least.”_ **

**_"Excellent."_ ** Catra finishes with her phone, then sets it down and stretches her arms above her head. That's when Adora sees the stain.

She waves frantically at Catra, but her eyes are closed. She gets up and kicks her knee.

**_"What? what?_ ** " She signs, scowling. Adora points. **_"Really? That old joke? I'm not that gullible."_ **

What an insufferable piece of--

**_“Blood.”_ ** she signs. Catra finally looks down. There’s a dark patch staining her shirt right around where Adora’s sword sliced it open. Catra lifts her eyebrows, staring down at it. She doesn’t move. Just stares at it.

**_“Blood.”_ **she signs again because she doesn’t know what else to do. It wouldn’t be polite to start digging around Catra’s room for medical equipment.

**_“Looks like you got me.”_ ** She finally answers, sticking a finger through the hole in her shirt and _ew,_ that’s hardly sanitary, she should at least wash her hands--

**_“I’m so sorry._ **” And she is. She needs to have better control over herself.

**_“I’ve had worse.”_ **Catra replies, letting her stained shirt drop back against her chest. There’s something in her eyes when she says it, something that Adora can’t quite place.

**_“Let me see it._ **” She insists, because this is her fault, the direct result of her actions, and so it should be her hands that set to heal.

**_“It’s fine--”_ ** And then, out loud, “Adora!” when she gets in close and pulls down the neckline of Catra’s shirt.

**_“Still bleeding.”_ ** Adora signs, scowling, focusing on the wound, refusing to acknowledge the flush on her cheeks. **_“Deep, but clean. Where are your medical supplies?”_ **

Catra points one clawed finger at the cupboard under the sink.

Adora pushes up off the floor and retrieves it from amongst cleaning supplies she isn’t sure have seen the light of day for years.

**_“Take off your shirt. It’s ruined, anyway.”_ **Adora instructs as she opens the kit and starts to dig through the supplies. She almost misses the BOSSY sign that Catra throws her way. But when Adora looks up again she’s lounging in her bean bag, fingers glued to her phone, jacket and shirt tossed off to the side. This is the second time that Adora’s seen Catra without a shirt today. Gods. This had better not become a habit. For her part, Catra seems unconcerned. She isn’t even looking at her.

_Okay, Grayskull. Don’t make it a big deal._ She’s still typing. Adora reaches within the circle of her arms and pushes them apart. Catra looks like Adora’s just insulted her first born. Too bad. Her blood’s going to drip onto the bean bag if it’s not dealt with soon.

She uses a gauze pad to wipe up the streaming trails of red. Unfortunately it’s had a bit of a chance to set, so it’s not a one and done job. She has to crack open some alcohol wipes. And because Catra has FUR it’s even worse. She kneels with her legs bracketing Catra’s hips, fingers deep in the soft fur of her chest above her breasts. It’s not sexual. It’s not sensual. At least, it’s not until Adora starts thinking that. She shifts her hips, trying to refocus.

Tries to ignore the newfound discovery that Catra’s freckles go all the way down her neck and onto her chest.

She breaks out the needle and thread, ignoring the blue-yellow gaze that clings to her like static. Ignores that nothing about this scenario feels static. Ignores that everything feels like it’s charged, moving, shifting subtly. Thrumming like a live wire. It’s fine. This is normal. She’s just patching up her--she’s just patching up Catra.

“Ow.” Catra says when the needle pricks her skin, (at least Adora thinks she says ‘ow’. Lip reading is an imperfect art) but her face is expressionless and she doesn’t flinch.

“Stop being a baby.” Adora verbally responds because her hands are, well. Occupied.

“Stop being a what? A gravy?” She is absolutely going to punch Catra as soon as she’s finished stitching.

“Shut up.”

“Oh so *** **** *** ‘shut up’, but **** ******* ****.”

**_“What did you say?_ **” Is Catra making fun of her accent?

**_“Nothing.”_ **

Now.

That’s not fair.

The flighty nervous excited thing in her chest turns hot and itchy and grating. Adora stops moving her hands for fear that she’ll give in to the temptation to stab the needle right into the open wound. She shifts her jaw back and forth, cracking it.

Being deaf, much of the world is censored for her. She misses out on countless conversations. Mostly that’s fine. Etherian Sign Language isn’t known by most. But here is someone who knows how to sign, who she can communicate with...it’s not about knowing what she said. It’s about having the choice to respond. A choice she is so often robbed of. A choice that for once, there isn’t a good reason for her to be denied.

Adora finishes her stitches quickly, then all but slaps a bandage over them.

“Ow.” Catra says again, this time actually wincing and rubbing her fingers over the fresh white patch.

She gets off of Catra’s lap without fanfare and tosses her ripped and bloody shirt back at her.

Catra picks it off of her face, but for once there’s no witty comeback. No flirtatious banter about her current state of undress or the flush surely gracing Adora’s cheeks. Instead she looks down at her shirt and pokes a finger through the hole.

**_“What gives?”_ **

What gives? _What gives_? I thought you were--

Different. I thought you understood.

**_“It’s nothing.”_ **

The look on Catra’s face is remarkable, it’s like shock and realization bundled into offense. **_“Is this about--it’s hard to understand you, sometimes.”_ **

**_“Well your ESL is hardly perfect.”_ ** Adora snipes back, using hot words and snarling lips to defend the soft aching spot in her chest from further exploitation.

**_“Wow, can you calm down? I think your accent is cool.”_ ** And just like that, the swelling anger in her chest deflates. Catra thinks her accent is cool? **_“I was just joking with you.”_ **

**_“It was a shitty joke.”_ **

**_“Not one of my finer moments.”_ ** Catra admits, rubbing the back of her neck. And she still hasn’t actually signed ‘sorry’, but Adora thinks that maybe it’s okay if some things are felt instead of spoken. **_“Nice stitchwork, by the way.”_ ** She adds, poking at the bandage, and Adora thinks that maybe Catra can’t say ‘thank you’, either.

**_“You’re welcome.”_ ** Because Catra can’t say it but Adora can’t NOT say it.

**_“Help me up.”_ ** She extends a hand and Adora reaches out to grasp it.

**_“Oh so you can scale a four storey building in 20 seconds but getting out of a bean bag is beyond you.”_ ** Adora teases lightly as Catra hauls herself onto her feet.

**_“Bean bags don’t operate with Etherian gravity. Everyone knows that. They’re much heavier.”_ ** She walks over to a filing cabinet and withdraws a shirt with ‘HARPY QUEENS’ across the front in big letters. They were a popular rock band a few years ago.

**_“Seriously though, you were amazing back there.”_ ** Adora signs because it’s true. She’s not sure she’s ever seen anyone move like that before. “How you raced after that mutant--scaling that building without any equipment!”

**_“Stop stroking my ego, Grayskull. I might think you want something.”_ ** Catra scoffs. But is...is that? Is there a hint of red around her cheeks? There is! She’s blushing!

There must be a noise because Catra starts to look aorund the room.

**_“What?”_ **Adora signs. Catra doesn’t respond. It’s--oh, just her phone.

**_“Food’s here. Help me bring it up.”_ **

Soon they’re sitting at Catra’s little kitchen area munching on noodles with plastic chopsticks. Catra’s phone is plugged into her laptop, busily uploading all of the photos she took at the precinct.

_**“So your magic. You don’t go full She-Ra all of the time?”**_ Catra asks as she chews her food, and the question is innocent enough but Adora feels like she’s in a room with no exits and a circling predator.

_**“No, I can summon my sword at will, but after I disperse it there’s a twenty minute window where I can’t call on it again. Like a cooldown.”** _

_**“But it’s part of you, right? And you can become She-Ra at will? Why don’t you do it more often? If I had that kind of power I don’t think I’d ever give it up.”** _There’s something there but Adora doesn’t want to dig at it. She’s too busy fending off her own demons.

_**“I...can. It takes a lot out of me though, after. I don’t like to do it too often.”** _

_**“You can summon your sword on reflex, though? I saw how it zapped into your hand when that guy lunged at you.”** _

_**“Yes, it responds to my emotions."**   _Change the subject. Change the subject. " _ **I felt the vibrations right as he was getting close--but I guess I didn’t need to, did I? You got him pretty good.”**_  

_**“I did, didn’t I?”** _Catra grins. _**“He was so SURE your back wasn’t covered.”**_ There had been that minute there, when Adora turned and Catra wasn’t there. She thought she was alone. And she probably could’ve taken all four of them, but…

_**“You were amazing.”**_ Adora signs. _**“Seriously. Where did you learn to move like that?”**_

_**“Try that again.”**_ Catra smirks, and Adora puts down her chopsticks to use both hands. _**“No, sorry--?”**_ She signs it one more time. _**“I was what?”**_ Adora spells it out, because--wait.

_**“I am never giving you a compliment again.”**_ Catra just laughs, her fangs glinting in the white fluorescent light from above. She tries not to think about how her heart flutters in her chest at the visual.

_**“I learned it on the streets. Right after the Riots it was basically a crime to be a hybrid, so as soon as I spotted a cop I would take off. Most of the bastards were too slow to to even get onto a roof, let alone chase me across several. But other gangs--well. One time I picked up a drop intended for Skeletor, and Webstor saw me, and that bastard has range** _ _**. Caught up to me.”** _She points to a sliver of skin missing from her ear. _**“Gave me this. Put more effort into mobility, after that.”**_

_**“The Hybrid Riots...those were a long time ago. You’ve been on the streets for…”** _

_**“Oh, I’m not--this isn’t--we’re not on the streets, here.**_ ” Catra laughs. _**“This is maybe a shitty living situation but it’s a damn sight better than a tent. Honestly I wasn’t out for long. I was in an orphanage for a long time. ‘Til I was like 10 or so. Shadow Weaver picked me up from the gutters when I was 11. The nice thing about nabbing orphans off the streets for your lab is there’s no one to question the ethics of your experiments.”**_ Something cold creeps down Adora’s spine.

_**“Did Shadow Weaver...did she…”** _

_**“Hey, looks like everything’s uploaded!”** _It’s been done for at least five minutes, but Adora doesn’t point that out. Catra clicks through several images. She makes a face and sticks her tongue out. “Ugh. These are all in weird legal police person speak.”

_**“Show me.”**_ She does happen to know at least one, maybe two things about legal police person speak.

Catra slides the laptop over.

The report is extensive. Some of it she gets. Other parts are in a medical jargon that she only understand after a search, and sometimes not even then.

There are some interesting tidbits, including the estimated time of death (3.00 AM), the contents of his stomach (roasted schobster, Fae wine, fishlets, coffee cake), and a tox report (unknown substance believed to be new recreational drug known as Stallos).

It’s at least ten minutes before she locates what they want.

_**“Here.”**_ She points. “Cause of death….” Beside it is written “Accidental.”

Fuck.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two broken hearts don't make a whole  
> A brand new house don't make a home
> 
> Lay Low, by New Atlas

 

 **_“What? No. No that can’t be.”_ ** Catra rotates the laptop so that she can read the screen. “No. This can’t be right. Who was the medical examiner who signed off on this?” Adora leans over, scrolling through the pictures.

**_“Dr. J. A. J-A-S-K-A.”_ **

**_“Jajaska?”_ **

**_“No, J, point, A, point, Jaska. Here. See?”_ **

Catra leans in. They’re so close their cheeks are practically touching. Adora can feel the heat of her skin.

**_“I’m going to look into his credentials.”_ **

**_“Catra!_ **” Adora yelps.

Her face is the picture of confused innocence.

**_“You can’t just dig into someone’s life like that!”_ **

**_“What are you, a cop?”_ **

Yes.

 **_“I just want to see if he received any large donations from mysterious sources over the past year is all.”_ ** Catra adds.

**_“How...long will that take?”_ **

Catra shrugs.

 **_"Chill for a few minutes while I make some calls."_ ** And she doesn't love being told what to do like that, but there aren't exactly any stellar alternatives. So, fine. Whatever. She walks over to a sofa and plops down while Catra punches some numbers into her phone.

 

\---

 

She's confused when she wakes up. Why is it dark? This isn't her home. Her heart jumps in her throat and she sits up suddenly.

There's a blue light in the corner of the room. Catra is sitting at the table, one leg folded over her lap, computer open in front of her. Her gaze flickers to Adora's face for a moment and then away again.

Right. Right.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket. It’s dead.

 **_"OK?"_ **Catra signs.

Adora chews the inside of her cheek.

 **_"Fine."_ ** She realizes there’s a blanket draped across her. **_“What time is it?”_ **

**_“5.40 AM.”_ **Adora rubs the back of her neck, hopeful that the darkness hides the furious blush on her face. So much for a few minutes.

Catra waves at her to get her attention.

**_"I've found some discrepancies in Jaska's finances."_ **

She folds the blanket before she crosses the room to Catra’s makeshift desk.

**_“He’s received a few mysterious payments from a company called Fourth Right. I found their website, but all of their addresses lead to abandoned buildings or empty lots. I sent an email and got an automatic reply about being out of the office or something. Long story short, I’m convinced he took hush money from someone, but I don’t know who. Or why.”_ **

**_“We have to talk to him.”_ **

**_“We have--hey.”_ **

There’s a little smile on Catra’s face. It’s not the same as her usual smirk, the one that’s all sharp fangs half hidden behind pulled lips. This is quiet. Small. Soft.

She elbows her.

**_“Jinx.”_ **

**_“Fuck off!”_ ** Catra laughs, elbowing her back.

Then she realizes that a light is spilling in through the door. The previously closed door.

 

For the second time in so many hours Adora feels the snap crackle of lightning in her palm as her heart leaps into her throat. There on the threshold is a dark figure with tendrils snaking towards the ceiling.

_Magic._

She rushes forward, blade in hand.

She doesn’t get far.

Something pulls against her ankle, nearly tripping her and bringing her to an abrupt stop.

 **_“What the hell?”_ ** She signs at Catra, whose foot is sticking out.

 **_“Hi, Shadow Weaver.”_ ** Catra signs, expression bored. The battle ready adrenaline in Adora’s blood changes into something cold and icy that drains down her spine.

Shadow Weaver is the only Pract who has managed to evade the Department. Ever. Supposedly there’s already a room built specifically for her in the House of Darkness, waiting for the day that the Department finally catches her.

Adora does not drop her sword.

It emits a gentle blue glow, just barely enough that she can see the mask over Shadow Weaver’s face.

**_“What’s your name?”_ **

Shadow Weaver knows sign language…?

She bites her lip, holding the grip of her sword.

 **_“I won’t do you any harm, dear. You can put that horrible thing down. You used to be a police officer, didn’t you?”_ ** She’s so off put that she actually does it, too. Well she doesn’t let go, doesn’t dust it, but she does drop her guard. She’s in a relaxed at-ease stance, now.

 **_“There. That’s better already, isn’t it?”_ ** On the contrary, Adora feels sweat beading at the back of her neck. But she has to relax. She _has_ to. She has to find a way to track her, or a flaw in her magic, something that will let the Department get her into the prison where she belongs. All it will take is for Adora to bear her throat.

 **_“A-D-O-R-A.”_ **She signs with one hand.

**_“That’s right. Bright Moon PD’s brilliant young detective...formerly. What are you doing here?”_ **

 

 **_“Remember I said that I had help getting Octavia out of jail?”_ ** Catra gestures at Adora with a sweeping wave as if to say ‘ta-da’.

 **_“Really.”_ ** her mask makes her tone impossible to read.

 **_“Yes.”_ ** Adora answers with confidence she doesn’t feel.

**_“You have my gratitude. Octavia is an invaluable asset to our operation at times like these.”_ **

**_“You’re welcome.”_ **

**_“And now you are…”_ **

**_“Helping me track down the origin point of the bad batch of Stallos we were hit with.”_ **Catra signs.

**_“Wonderful.”_ **

**_“Your turn.”_ ** Adora raises her eyebrows, surprised at Catra’s flippancy. She would NEVER speak to a superior officer in such a manner.

**_“My reasons for visiting are ones perhaps best discussed in private.”_ **

**_“Fine.”_ **  Catra turns to Adora and waves without looking at her directly. **_“See you later.”_ **

The icy thing has moved from Adora’s spine to the air between them. She stands there awkwardly, perplexed at the sudden change.

 **_“Dear, please vacate the premises. I’ll have one of my darklings show you the way. We will see you soon. Take care.”_ ** Just like that a black eel peels itself off of the darkness that surrounds Shadow Weaver and slinks out of the doorway. When she doesn’t follow immediately, it comes back, pulling up off the ground like a snake.

She doesn’t think to wave goodbye to Catra or Shadow Weaver when she goes.

 

\---

 

She lies awake in bed that night thinking about the exchange, looking over her memories like a stone in her hands. Shadow Weaver had been kind to her. Very kind. It made her feel...she felt...warm. Proud. It was so at odds with how everyone described her. It was so at odds with how Catra’s barriers immediately jumped into place.

When she finally falls asleep she dreams of drowning in swirling seas and bright lights she can’t reach.

\---

 

She texts Catra the next day.

 

A: All good w you?  
C: Yeah the hag just wanted weekly dues

C: Donno why she decided to show up at fuckin 6 AM tho???

C: Keep me on my toes ig

A: ig?

C: I guess. Keep up with the lingo.

A: What if I dont

C: idgaf wyd

A: stop

C: make me

A: just tell me about Jaska please

C: According to GPS tracking data on his phone he does some work at the Mercy Hospital on Fridays from 10PM to 4AM.   
A: How did you get that data

C: Don’t worry about it  
C: What do you say? DTF?   
A: What does that stand for   
A: Wait I just googled it   
A: …   
A: Catra.   
C: :3

C: Date this Friday?

A: THAT’S NOT WHAT GOOGLE SAID IT MEANS

A: ugh. I’ll go with you on Friday.

A: You owe me dinner.

C: Yeah that’s how dates work

A: Can I ask you something

C: you just did but go ahead

A: Are you like contractually obligated to flirt with me

C: lol. No. you're just that irresistible, babe

A: Now all I can think of is how you botch the baby sign

C: Does it turn you on?

A: literally the opposite

C: I'm not gonna stop doing it anyway

A: ugh

A: fine. Meet at yours at 10?

C: see ya then

 

\---

 

NEXT FRIDAY

 

She's getting ready to head over to Catra's when her phone starts buzzing. She grabs it from her dresser. Caller ID says it's Bow. She hits 'accept', holds it to her ear.

 

"Bow." She says. Silence. Because there's always silence. She waits a moment, hoping he heard her, and then hangs up. She navigates to her text messages to see over a dozen unread notifications.

 

B: Adora

B: Something's wrong with Angella

B: It's something to do with magic I don't understand

B: Adora!!! Do I take her to the hospital??? I normally take broken magic things to Angella

B: but this time SHE IS THE BROKEN MAGIC THING

B: ADORA ANSWER YOUR PHONE THIS IS URGENT

B: ADORA

B: (missed call)

B: (missed call)

B: (call ended. Call length: 0.03)

A: What's happening?

B: Less typing, more moving your ASS!

A: You're at her house?

B: yes

A: stay put. omw.

 

\---

 

Neither of them is really sure what’s wrong with Angella. She’s conscious and cognizant, at least, and manages to guide Adora through a simple cleaning ritual.

She doesn’t love it, and Glimmer would’ve been way better at it, but they manage to work things out. She doesn’t have to transform, and Bow is a reliable Anchor, so it works out. Angella confesses that she was being careless with a dark artifact at work and apologizes to the both of them for causing a fuss (they both insist it’s fine, of course).

 

\---

  


When Adora drags herself back into her apartment it’s nearly 3am. She also has five unread texts and one missed call. All from Catra.

 

C (10:32): U on ur way?

C (10:40): OK ur taking too long, meet me at Aladdin’s on 4th and the Ave.

C (11:10): At the sub shop. There’s a dude here with the top of his head shaved and the sides are like SUPER long and he has SUPER long mutton chops. What the fuck.

C (11:20): 24/7 shops are a gift from the Gods

C (missed call: 11:44 PM)

C (11:47) Guess I’ll go by myself

 

A (03:12 AM): Catra I'm super sorry. An emergency came up at home.

A (03.14 AM): Did you go by yourself?

She sits at her kitchen counter, shoes still on, wondering what to do. Jaska will be there until 4. And they could always catch up with him after…

She pours herself a bowl of cereal and tries to keep from checking her phone ever 3 seconds.

 

A (03.35 AM) Catra?

A (03.36 AM) We can always go next week

 

C (03.37 AM) Can you shut the fuck up I'm trying to sleep

A (03.37 AM) Oh, sorry.

 

She goes to bed with a bad taste in her mouth.

 

\---

 

She tries to reach out to Catra a few times over the following week.

 

A (10.20 AM) Hey! Sorry for waking you up.  And again I'm so sorry for ditching. I should've let you know. Do you think we can try again this Friday?

 

By the time she's in bed that night at 11.30, there's still no response. Nothing the next day, either. or the following. She considers maybe trying to talk to Jaska herself. But what about the communication barrier? And it would only make Catra angrier if Adora went behind her back. And she can't sever this relationship yet. She doesn't have enough info to take the Horde down. She needs to get Shadow Weaver. Skeletor too, if she can. The gang war won't stop until she has all of the top officers locked away.

She needs to make things work with Catra.

She needs to get closer to Shadow Weaver.

 

\---

 

B: Adora

B: Adooooraaaa

B: AdoAdoAdora

A: Hi Bow, what’s up?

B: Wanna get lunch?  
A: Can’t, sorry, I’m doing some temp security work for some folks...gotta pay that rent

B: Aww ok

 

\---

 

B: ADORA

A: BOW  
B: Netossa and Spinerella and Layla and Barty and some others are going out tonight, u wanna come?   
A: Thanks but no thanks

B: ok. U feelin alright?

A: Yeah it just might look a little suspicious if I’m hanging out with the old gang is all

B: Oh duh can’t believe I didn’t think of that

B: Speaking of maintaining your cover, I noticed someone poking around your finances yesterday. They copied some stuff over, nothing serious, just your history. It’s probably fleabag making sure that you’re not still secretly on payroll.

A: Do we really have to use that as her codename

B: It’s Glimmer’s name for her, not mine!

B: Also pointing out that it’s a codename kind of defeats the purpose

A: I’ll delete it later.

B: Anyway, I don’t think that she knows enough about tech to actually check ur numbers, so I suspect she has someone helping her out.

A: Yeah she’s mentioned a few times she has some outside help.  
B: It would be really good to know who that is

B: Would go a long ways to helping shut down their operations

A: I’ll work on it  
B: ok I gotta go, ttyl! <3

 

\---

 

B: Wanna come w me and my dads to board game night at the Hop Dog?

A: Yeah, okay

B: NICE. See you there at 8?

A: It’s a date!  
A: but not actually a date   
B: Because you’re a lesbian

A: Because I’m a lesbian

A: Hey! Jinx.  
B: I owe you a beer!   
A: You sure do. Ok, I’ll see you in a bit!   
B: kk

B: Hey...you ok? You been really quiet. You keep checking your phone.  
A: Yeah I’m fine, sorry

B: You don’t seem fi--dafdcEQ2E2$$#$@!)

B: lmao sorry dad hates phones being used during game night  
A: You’re really taking a risk for me huh?   
B: YEAH   
A: lol. I’ll tell you later, ok?   
B: Sounds good   
B: OK ADORA, IT’S LATER   
A: ugh   
B: I am waiting   
A: ughhh   
A: talking about feelings is hard   
B: it’s healthy! It gets easier the more you do it!   
A: ugh

A: ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghg

A: can I just go to bed  
B: no

A: ugh  
A: Remember the night we had to go help Angella?   
B: yes?

A: I was supposed to meet with Catra to question a guy for our case  
B: Fleabag but continue   
A: That’s such a bad name for her, why not, like, Lioness, or smthn

B: Lioness??  
A: or something   
B: OK keep going though, you were supposed to meet with her?

A: yeah and instead I went to help out Angella with you, and I forgot to tell her, and even though I apologized she still hasn’t responded to me or anything...it’s been five days now.

B: Hmmmm...I guess send her a text to let her know you are still game for another time, but make it clear there’s no pressure. She needs space. Hounding her about it won’t fix anything.   
A: yeah I know.   
B: Hey! How about we go out tomorrow night, to get your mind off of everything?

A: you think that would work?  
B: You need to loosen up! And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a cute girl…

A: Okay okay. I’m game.

B: Crystal Palace at 10PM?

A: I’ll be there!  
B: ok see ya, love ya! <3   
A: Love you too!

 

\---

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler/set up chapter, thanks for bearing with me folks. As always, comments keep me fueled. Thanks <3


	12. Chapter 12

As soon as they arrive to the club Bow starts jumping up and down in excitement. Adora can’t help it, his enthusiasm is contagious.

**_“How do you sign ‘P-A-R-T-Y T-I-M-E?_ ** ” He asks, fingerspelling slowly and carefully. She grins, showing him the correct gestures.

**_“PARTY PARTY PARTY TIME!”_ ** He signs insistently, jumping over to the bar.  **_“What do you want to drink?”_ ** He asks,  **_“Me. Me. Cash.”_ **

**_“You need money?”_ ** She asks, thinking of the moths surely occupying her empty empty wallet.

**_“No. I...P-A-Y.”_ ** She really doesn’t deserve him as a friend. They order their drinks and then find a table on the balcony so they can look down at the crowd on the dance floor. It’s busy, but not as packed as it sometimes is. Adora can feel the  _ thump, thump, thump  _ of the bass in her chest like it’s her heart. She sips her long island ice tea, gazing at the crowd. The DJ, a zebra hybrid, nods their head along to the music. 

**_“Cute?”_ ** Bow asks, pointing. “See anyone cute?” 

**_“Ahh...no.”_ **

**_“I do. I see cute.”_ ** He grins.

**_“Where?”_ ** She looks around, wondering if maybe one of their mutual friends walked in or if he’s genuinely spotted an attractive stranger.

Then she realizes he’s pointing at her. She smacks his hand away and rolls her eyes, sits back in her chair to take another sip of her tea. 

**_“You OK?”_ ** Bow asks, scowling. 

She gives him a confused look.

**_“Well, the...R-E-S-P-O-N-- answer, yes, answer, ‘No, YOU’RE cute.’ Next I say, ‘we both cute.’”_ ** That’s right. That’s something he and Glimmer used to say to each other all the time. She’s not Glimmer. 

**_“Sorry. It’s been a while.”_ ** She looks down at her phone. No new notifications. She sighs, rests her chin in her palm and watches the club lights flash.

 

_ Bzzt bzzt! _

 

She snatches her phone up lightning quick.

 

B: Girl WHO are you waiting for a text from?

She grimaces and looks at him. He raises his eyebrows at her.

A: Sorry, sorry. I’m here. I promise.

B: What is it you see in her?

A: Who?

 

The look he gives her is withering. It’s something he picked up from Glimmer; Bow isn’t naturally scathing. She’s hit with a sudden wave of longing. Bow is brilliant. There’s no doubt about that. But Glimmer was… there’s still a void sucking away pieces of Adora on the inside. 

 

A: Catra?

B: Yes, Catra!

A: I don’t know what you mean

B: You haven’t realized? Even at board game night you were like, ‘Catra would love this’, or ‘Catra would have a fit if she saw that’. Adora… I love you, and I want you to be happy, and I trust you...but are you sure this is a good idea?

“Yes I’m sure!” She signs, insistent. Then sighs. Runs a hand through her hair. “I’m...She’s...interesting.”

 

B: What?

A: She’s interesting.

B: She’s dangerous, Adora. She’s a criminal. She’s going to prison for a long, long time. You’re the one who is going to put her there.

A: I know, I know. You’re right. Of course you’re right.

B: Then why do I feel like there’s something more to this?

A: There’s some good in her, Bow. She helped me stop some thugs from beating on some innocent man. She didn’t let the Snakemen take me. She put a blanket over me when I fell asleep on her sofa. She’s never pressed me for details about what happened with--what happened, and… she’s never made fun of my accent or been weird about me being deaf.

B: Do you think maybe you’re giving her too much credit…? She was defending her territory. Maybe she’s just being nice because she needs you. I mean, maybe she’s not! Maybe she does have some good in her. 

B: But she’s also done a lot of really, really illegal things. Attacked dozens of cops, left plenty with terrible disfiguring scars, sold drugs, stolen cars...If she is good, really good, she would’ve given herself up already. But she hasn’t. And it’s not your job to help her find her morals. She’s not a project, Adora. You can’t make her good if she doesn’t want to be.

A: What if she wants to be, but just doesn’t know how?   
B: I...that’s a nice way to think about it, Adora, but I’m not sure it’s true. I mean maybe I am wrong. I would love to be wrong! But if it turns out I’m not...I just don’t want this to ruin you. I can tell you feel close to her. Closer than you feel to me, maybe, even. Closer to her than anyone since Glimmer. I think it’s important to love and love hard, but this...this isn’t healthy…

A: but what if she REALLY does want to be good? to change?

B: Then Ill stand by you. You know her better than I do. I want you to be careful, but also I'll support you no matter what. We ride together

A: we die together!

B:There she is! Excellent. Now, how about a dance?   
  


They get on the floor and for a while Adora forgets all about Catra.

In fact, there’s a cute fae girl with iridescent dragonfly wings and a wide smile she catches looking at her boldly. Every time Adora sneaks another glance at her she catches her gaze.

**_“Go say hi._ ** ” Bow signs.

**_“But I’m dancing with you--”_ **

**_“Go!”_ ** He instructs, smiling, pushing her in the girl’s direction. Her brain is short circuiting apparently because she can’t think of anything to do besides approach her.

She offers a small wave.

“You were watching me?” She says.

“Sorry?”

Oh, right. Club. Everyone is about as deaf as she is.

“You were watching me dance?” She tries again.

“Oh! I *** ****** ******** ***** ****, *** **** *****--”   
Adora holds up a hand, feeling overwhelmed.

**_“Deaf.”_ ** She says and signs.

“Oh!” She kind of wishes people didn’t always react that way. Like it’s a surprise.

The girl grabs a napkin and plucks a pen from beside the cash register at the bar.

‘Yes I was watching. You have a very unique way of dancing.’

‘Is that a kind way of saying I’m terrible?’

‘No! No! You’re lovely. I was admiring you.’

‘It’s okay. I know I’m bad. I can’t hear the music. I just move to the beat I feel.’

‘Dancing is all about feeling. Here, let me show you.’ She gets up off of her stool and reaches out a hand. There’s nothing Adora can do but take it.

Adora’s ready to drop it once they’re out there, but instead the girl takes it and places it on her hip. She moves in so that their hips are pressed together. What’s she supposed to do? She glances around desperately for Bow, but he just grins and gives her two thumbs up.

The girl reaches out and puts her hands on Adora’s shoulders. Her mouth falls open and her lips are so pretty, shining with a hint of chapstick. Wait--did she just--squeeze Adora’s bicep? She did! The girl looks her right in the eye and grins.

The girl leads Adora through a few moves. They spin around each other, against each other, constantly touching. It’s primal and erotic. It makes her heart race. 

They come to a stop, finally, who knows how much time later. The lights fade out for a moment, then come back in as a different color and the beat changes. Adora grins, not minding the sweat slicking her brow. The girl across from her is equally flush. She turns and points at the bar-- drinks?

Yes, she nods her head. 

The girl starts to push through the crowd. 

**_“She’s cute!”_ ** Bow signs as he appears at her elbow. 

**_“Yeah. She’s not bad--”_ ** Wait. A flash of orange fur and dark brown hair.   
  


"Catra?" She calls out instinctively. Adora turns to tug on Bow's shirt. 

**_"I think I saw C-A-T-R-A."_ ** she signs.

**_"What?”_ ** He immediately starts looking around. 

Adora turns, and the wild mane of hair and pointed purple ears are gone. Disappeared into the crowd.

**_"She was right there…"_ **

**_"Don't see?"_ **

**_"She's gone now. nevermind."_ ** Could have easily been someone else.

Adora walks over to the balcony bar with Bow, casting more than the occasional glance over her shoulder at the crowd in search of the orange furred figure. 

The fae girl orders drinks and Adora pays. 

‘I’m going back out to dance. Join me?’

‘In a few minutes, if that’s okay? I want to sit for a bit.’

‘Sure thing. See you out there.’ She winks, then takes off. 

Adora and Bow sit down and have another drink. Bow is telling her about something awkward that happened on his date with Perfuma when Adora sees her again.

**_"There! there she is!"_ ** It's not a mistake this time. Catra, dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a shirt so translucent Adora can see her bra through it from all the way over here. She has her hands over her head, the stripes on her skin adding to the hypnotic effect generated by the sway of her hips.

**_"What are you doing?"_ ** Bow asks when he sees her getting out of her seat.

**_"I'm going to talk to her?"_ **

"**** **** good ****?" 

**_"What?"_ **

 

**B:** Is that a good idea…? I think she might be here with someone else.

 What? No-- Adora looks back over at the dance floor. Sure enough, there's another woman staring Catra down. She trails her hand up Catra's chest, over her exposed collar bones, along her neck and to the back of her head. Catra slides her hands down her hips and pulls so they're flush against one another. 

**B:** Do you know who that is…?

 

**_“No…”_ ** Catra never mentioned she had a girlfriend. But then, why would she? Or maybe this is someone she just met. 

**_“I want to ask her why she’s--”_ ** Bow blinks rapidly. She sighs and pulls out her phone.

 

A: I want to ask her why she’s ignoring my texts.

B: She might not respond well to you interrupting her. Send her a text?

A: What if she doesn’t answer?   
B: If she’s too busy for a text, then she’s too busy for an in person conversation.

A: Fine.

 

A (to C): Hey! Are you at the Crystal Palace? I see someone who is either you or your long lost twin.

 

Over the next ten minutes the only messages she receives are from Bow.

She looks over to see Catra departing the dance floor. Alone. 

A: I'm going to talk to her.

Bow grabs her arm.

**_"..be safe."_ ** She smiles and nods. 

B: I'm right here if you need me.

 He lets her go.

She pushes her way through the dance floor to get to the halls. She doesn’t see Catra. Where could she be? Adora knows she’s right on her heels. Can’t be far… She cuts the line to the bathroom (to several glares) but she doesn’t see her inside. She can’t be in one of the stalls unless she cut the line. Which...is possible. But there are other places to check first.

Catra isn’t in the men’s restroom, either.

One door leads to an office, another to a green room. She decides to try one last door before returning to Bow.

She opens the supply closet. The lights are off. There are some shelves full of boxes and cleaning supplies. She's about to leave when she sees something moving in the corner. Is that a person? She squints against the darkness, peering into its depths. 

There's the woman. The one from earlier. From the dancefloor.  Her head is thrown back. And pressed against her front is Catra.

Adora freezes.

She sees Catra pull her hand from the front of the woman’s pants.

**_"What are you looking at, pervert?"_ ** Catra signs. 

**_"I--was just wondering why you haven't responded to my texts."_ **

**_"I've been busy." she snarls. "I'm busy right now."_ **

**_"Right. I see. Uh, sorry. I'll just...uh, go."_ ** She closes the door. 

\---

A: Can we go home?

B: Of course. <3

\---

Bow graciously doesn’t ask her anything about it. She doesn’t offer any details. They go home. He bids her goodnight.

\---

She stands in the shower and thinks about the way Catra's tongue flicked out to taste her partners lips. About the flush on her cheeks. About the way the woman's waist band was pulled down, the fabric bunched at the front. Her claws digging in, pulling them down further, the little red lines where they scraped skin. She thinks about pressing Catra up against a wall and teasing her. Stroking the fur on her belly. Light touches on her thighs, outlining her stripes.

She slides a hand down her stomach, between her legs. 

Thinks of running her hands through Catra’s hair, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and sucking gently. 

Remembers, suddenly. ‘What are you looking at, pervert?’

She withdraws her hand and finishes her shower.

\---

She lies in bed and stares at the ceiling. She doesn’t cry, but she wants to. She’s not entirely sure why. 

The sun is up when she finally falls asleep.

\---

When she wakes up she has a new text message.

C: Next Friday. Let’s roll. 

Adora drops her phone on her chest and sighs.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Log Entry 9

Detective Adora Grayskull  
(Date stamp)

 

 **Shadow Weaver** makes visits to the warehouse located off of Pike Street on occasion. 

(ADDRESS)

One of her abilities includes creating small shadow minions that obey her will. Possibly how she has managed to evade Dept. for so long?

Other members of Shadow Weaver’s faction include:

 **Catra** (Magicat hybrid, female, approx 23 years in age)(further descriptions attached)

Note: Catra is believed to be of the highest rank amongst the group of 4

 **Lonnie** (human, female, approx 23 years age)(further descriptions attached)

 **Kyle** (human, male, approx 19 years age)(further descriptions attached)   
**Rogelio** (lizardman hybrid, male, approx 10 years age*)(Further descriptions attached)

*Rogelio aged 10 with the understanding that most lizardmen live half as long as humans (i.e. 10 years scales to 20)

 

There are more members of the faction but those listed above appear to be the only ones who reside within the building.

 **Scorpia** (Arachnion hybrid, female, approx 26 years age)(further descriptions attached)

Scorpia is the bartender at the Alibi. Possibly oversees/delegates meetings and shipments? More info to follow.

 **???** Unknown being who assists Catra with some of the more tech-heavy aspects of her position (i.e., hacking into police files, finding data, etc.)

Current plans to interrogate a Dr. J. A. Jaska regarding the autopsy file on H. Hordak.

 

\---

When Adora shows up to the warehouse Catra’s still in her room. Lonnie’s shooting at beer bottles with a pistol, each BANG of the gun makes Adora wince. When Lonnie turns her head she raises her weapon a fraction of an inch. A moment later her posture relaxes.

“***. ****** **** ***.... ***** ***--**.” There’s a look on her face, something expectant, then her brow winkles for just a moment before it smooths. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, types something, and then holds it out to Adora.

 **L:** Catra's upstairs. Probably best if you wait down here.

Adora nods. She doesn't need to be told twice. Instead she makes her way over the drooping, threadbare sofa. She hesitates for a moment, then sits. 

Lonnie returns to shooting the cans. Or rather, failing to shoot them. There's a flash in the dark as one of her bullets ricochets against scrap metal. 

She misses at least four more times before Adora gets up. Lonnie's brows are stitched together as she watches her approach, shoulders hunched like a defensive animal. 

Adora holds her hand out for the gun. There's a brief moment where she's unsure if Lonnie will comply, but she twists the piece and places it squarely in her palm. It's warm and heavy and uncomfortably familiar. 

Two hands, she takes a stance and raises the weapon. Relaxed grip, both eyes open and locked on the empty Roos can. Inhales slowly through her nose. As she exhales, she squeezes the trigger.

BANG.

The can goes flying. 

 **_"See?"_ ** She signs, raising an eyebrow and turning to Lonnie. There's something new in Lonnie's expression. Wonder? Surprise? Shock? She points at another one of the cans. Adora glances up to where she knows Catra's room is. The windows are dark and still. Does she have someone up there right now? Is she kissing them? Does she have them laid out on her bed, their clothes cast somewhere about the room, their bodies sliding against one another? Or does Catra have her pressed up against a wall? Or strewn out across her table? Is she holding her down, licking her neck, sucking marks into her skin--

Lonnie touches Adora’s shoulder and she jumps ten feet high in response. Immediately Lonnie backs away, her hands held up in defense, her eyes locked on--oh, right. Adora’s still holding the gun. She twists it in her palm and offers it back before pulling out her phone.

 **A:** Do you know when Catra will be down?

 **L:** Don’t know, don’t care. She gets pissy when people go up to her room unannounced. But by all means, try your luck. Catra’s anger is hysterical when it’s not directed at me.

 **A:** I guess I’ll wait.

 **L** : Hey, you’re an excellent shot. 

 **A:** Thanks! Do you want a few pointers?

 **L:** Sure. Nothing better to do.

It’s not until Lonnie’s jumping and cheering for having shot down all of the cans that Adora realizes she’s just enabled a _criminal_ to use a _deadly weapon_ with greater efficiency. She should be fired. Again. 

Something dark slithers along one wall, catching Adora’s attention. She watches as it zips along some rafters, then in a spiral down a beam, and across the floor to rejoin the mass of swirling darkness at the base of a set of crimson robes. Adora looks up slowly to see Shadow Weaver is standing at the base of the warehouse stairs. If what she’s doing can be qualified as standing, that is. She’s sort of...floating? Adora isn’t really sure, not without lifting her skirts and taking a peek under there. 

She wonders if Catra’s ever tried it before. If she weren’t so uneasy she might laugh.

 **_“Hello.”_ **The way she signs, how she moves--it’s almost like Adora can feel her in her head. And that thought she be disturbing but...it’s not?

 **_“Hi.”_ ** Adora waves back. 

 **_“You’ve certainly taught our Lonnie some useful tricks.”_ **The eye pieces over her mask tilt up like she’s smiling, but Adora can’t really be sure. Her tone is so difficult to read. 

“ **_She’s an impressive markswoman. She only needed a few tips here and there.”_ **

**_“How modest of you.”_ ** Shadow Weaver comments. **_“I saw your shooting. You’re quite an impressive markswoman yourself.”_ **

**_“Lots of practice at the range.”_ ** Adora shrugs, ignoring the fact that the reason she spent so much time at the range was because lining up and knocking down targets meant she didn't have to talk to people about what happened with Glimmer. 

Lonnie opens her mouth (presumably to say something) and Shadow Weaver turns her head. A moment later Lonnie is crossing the warehouse floor to replace her shot up cans.

 **_“Sit with me a moment.”_ ** Weaver gestures over to the ratty chairs around the cold fire barrel. There’s no external will being forced onto her (none magical, at any rate) but Adora feels like she’s outside of her body when her legs start moving. Next thing she knows she’s sitting on the ratty old sofa, looking up at the looming figure in red. 

She feels like she’s 14 again, sitting across from the principal’s desk about to be asked why she pushed Ricky Moreno into the mud.

**_“How is your investigation with Catra going?”_ **

There’s a moment of panic and mental scrambling before she remembers that Catra told Shadow Weaver they were investigating a bad batch of drugs.

 **_“Good.”_ **She replies simply. 

**_“I am pleased to hear that.”_ **

**_“Yeah, I’m actually here so we can go and talk to someone about it tonight.”_ ** the best lies are based on truths, right?

**_“And you’ve been careful with your sword?”_ **

**_“My..what?”_ **

**_“Your sword.”_ ** That mask makes all of her signs so _toneless_ it’s like Adora has to guess at half of the conversation’s meaning. 

**_“What...about my sword.”_ **

**_“It’s magic, dear.”_ **

**_“You can tell?”_ ** Shadow Weaver doesn’t answer. Maybe she thinks Adora is stupid. 

 **_“The Department will find you sooner or later, dear. If you continue to flash that thing around I expect that it will be sooner._ **” And, okay, she hasn’t been super discreet about it--but it’s not like she’s been standing on top of the Central Tower screaming ‘for the Honor of Grayskull’ or anything. 

She sits with her back ramrod straight against the back of the sofa, hands resting palms down on her thighs.

**_“You’re losing control, aren’t you.”_ **

It’s like a knife slices through all of the layers of defenses that Adora’s built up with one swipe. Her gut rolls. She’s nauseas. 

 **_“That’s why you really left the department, isn’t it?”_ **She breathes out a sigh of relief; Shadow Weaver is perceptive, but she’s drawing the wrong conclusions. She doesn’t know everything.

Shadow Weaver perches on the very edge of a tall stool so it’s like she’s barely sitting at all. She towers over Adora. 

 **_“It became too difficult for you to hide from your superiors. You know the punishment for being caught as a Practitioner without a license or registration. You had to leave, to find some unofficial means of controlling yourself before you made a disgrace of your entire department.”_ **Adora is helpless to do anything besides nod.

**_“Angella must have known something… she must’ve felt something in you, the same way that I do...She got too close to the truth and you had to leave._ **

**_“That’s why you’ve come to me, isn’t it?”_ ** The craziest thing about all of this is that Shadow Weaver isn’t even reaching. It makes sense. She’s the only unlicensed Prac that anyone knows about. **_“This nonsense with Catra--it’s a cover. You only ever assisted her so that you could come into contact with me.”_ ** Another near miss. Adora has to bite her tongue from blurting out the truth; she’s not sure what it is about Shadow Weaver, but it’s like she’s caught in a vice. She desperately wants to please her, to tell the truth, and the knowledge that if she does she’ll be eviscerated where she stands.

 **_“Yes.”_ ** She finally manages, drawing the word from herself like blood from a stone. **_“I’m afraid--I’m afraid that I’m going mad.”_ **

**_“Oh, child.”_ **Shadow Weaver stands (floats?) off of her stool, reaching over to Adora, and strokes her jaw. And--Gods, it should feel weird but it doesn’t? It doesn’t at all? It feels like coming home. It feels like understanding. It feels like--

Shadow Weaver withdraws her hand and Adora realizes she was leaning into the touch. She waits for the rolling guilt, the shame, the fear--it doesn’t come.

 **_“Fear not. I will assist you. Together, we will learn to control your power. For now...maintain your cover with Catra. The Department has eyes everywhere. Besides, it will do Catra some good to have a responsible role model around.”_ ** She strokes Adora’s hair lightly. **_“Now, darling, I have other matters to attend to.”_ ** She turns, and the green fluorescents of the warehouse flicker lightly.

 **_“Wait--when do we start?”_ ** Because she can’t help it. Because she’s excited. Because this isn’t what she thought she came here for but maybe it could be exactly what she needs.

 **_“I’ll be in contact with you. Take care. And be careful of Catra--no matter what you may think, she is not your friend.”_ ** And then all of the lights blink out at once. When they come back on, Shadow Weaver is gone.

\---

Lies within lies within lies. She’s being watched by Catra, she’s being watched by Shadow Weaver, she’s being watched by the Department...how is she supposed to maintain all of this? Adora feels like she’s starting to lose track of the truth herself. 

This isn’t the place to contemplate the increasing intricacies of her double life, however. She has a mission to complete.

Lonnie is over by her impromptu gun range, muttering to herself as she reloads the magazine.

Adora points up the stairs to Catra’s room and looks back to Lonnie. Lonnie gives a shrug as if to say, ‘No idea, dude’. Or possibly, ‘Go ahead, it’s your funeral.’

Adora’s always been an insufferable masochist so of course she climbs the stairs. Peering into Catra’s room is a fruitless endeavor; it’s too dark for her to make out more than silhouettes. She moves around to the door and tries the knob. It’s open. It’s...open? She pulls on it carefully and braces herself for something, she doesn’t know what. A trap? An alarm? To see Catra going to town with another girl?

What happens is none of those things.

What happens is this:

Adora opens the door. It’s dark inside, the only real source of light spilling in from the door she’s just opened. There’s no movement. She blinks a few times, waiting for her eyes to adjust, still holding her breath.

There’s a shape on the bed. She realizes that it’s Catra, lying on her stomach, a sheet covering her bottom half. It’s hardly the first time that Adora’s seen Catra without a top on. It is the first time that she’s been able to observe Catra without being observed in return. 

She’s covered in a fine layer of orange fur that thickens and darkens along her spine. Beautiful stripes zig zag over her planes of lean muscle. There’s another pattern of them on top, like lightning, maybe some sort of secondary coat--? No. No those aren’t stripes at all. Those are scars. 

Adora knows that she should be horrified, that she should be disgusted and shocked. She knows it and she doesn’t feel it. 

She notices that there’s something on the back of Catra’s neck. Another scar. But it looks less organic than the trails of pink snaking down her back. This looks like--like--there’s two pointed swoops, they must be wings, it looks like it was done on purpose-- Adora reaches out and touches the mark.

It looks like a brand.

Catra twists and snatches Adora’s hand with frightening strength.

Her eyes flash with recognition, but there’s a moment--a moment of hesitation, like she’s deciding--and then it’s over and she’s tossing Adora’s wrist like she hadn’t just been contemplating slashing her guts open.

“Shit.” Catra says, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, her brown hair cascading down her freckled shoulders. She’s wearing red boyshorts. She tucks her hands in her armpits with her arms crossed over her naked chest. Her freckles are cute. The stripe of fur along her spine is cute. The pattern of her stripes is cute. And Adora is so gods damned mad at her she could scream. 

**_“The scars on your back are pretty unique.”_ **

**_“Yeah? You wanna interrogate me about them?”_ **Catra signs with one hand. Adora’s been nothing but kind and patient with Catra and this is what she gets in return? Barbed questions and double standards? She misses a meeting and gets the cold shoulder, she shows up on time and she gets the third degree. She can’t win. She can’t win because Catra rigged the game. 

 **_“I was going to say you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but now yeah, I do want to interrogate you about them. What in Etheria happened? Why are they all over your back? I’ve never seen a weapon leave that kind of mark. It’s not an acid or fire burn. It could be electrical--was it from some sort of lightning strike? How old were you?_ **” With every question Catra’s knuckles gripping the edge of her bed get whiter. 

“I *** ***** ******, okay!?” Catra snarls, whirling on Adora. 

“I’m--what?”

 **_“I gave them to myself.”_ **Catra signs, but she’s looking at her feet when she does.

 **_“They’re on your back. You couldn’t have given them to yourself.”_ ** There’s a look of disgust on Catra’s face. 

Adora notices that there’s a yellowing bandage pressed to Catra’s chest (she doesn’t look down any further. Catra’s got an arm over her chest, anyway.)

 **_“Did you ever even change this?”_ ** She asks, reaching out to grab it. Catra doesn’t stop her.

**_“Yeah, I did.”_ **

**_“How many times?”_ **She asks, and notices that Catra is actively avoiding her gaze.

**_“Like every day. Sometimes a few times a day.”_ **

Adora peels back the edge of the bandage and winces as sticky yellow fluid stretches from the wound.

 **_“Is it infected?”_ **Catra queries.

 **_“Don’t think so…”_ ** She rips the white pad off and this time it’s Catra who flinches. There are more than a few strands of orange fur stuck in the adhesive. Adora tells herself she’s angry so it’s okay not to feel bad about it. Nevertheless, her skin twinges in sympathy.

She walks over to Catra’s little kitchen area and throws the bandage in a bin. She turns around with a washcloth in hand and startles when she realizes Catra’s walked up behind her. This is the second time today her heart has jumped into her throat. It would be so much easier if she had some way of sensing when people are approaching from behind. 

**_“Why are you wearing a shirt?”_ **

Catra shrugs.

While it’s certainly less distracting, it also limits her access to the wound on Catra’s chest. Adora stands there with the washcloth in hand and stares at Catra until it clicks. 

 **_“Oh.”_ **She reaches up and tugs the neckline down, but it won’t go far enough. 

 **_“Do you want to do this yourself?”_ ** Adora offers as she watches Catra struggle, feeling suddenly soft. It’s like something’s eaten away at all of Catra’s bravado so all she’s left with is something vulnerable and aching.

 **_“No...can you turn around for a second?”_ **She doesn’t know if Catra’s sudden shyness stems from her nudity, the scars on her back, being caught sleeping, or something else entirely. Regardless, Adora turns to give her the privacy she seems suddenly so desperate for.

There’s a tap on her shoulder a minute later. Catra’s holding her shirt over her breasts, but the weeping wound is exposed. 

 **_“Can you sit?”_ **Adora asks, and Catra obeys. Adora takes to dabbing away at the crusty yellow substance along the edges of the laceration. She pokes and prods at it for a few moments.

 **_“It’s not infected.”_ ** She states after a few moments, and the sharp lines on Catra’s face smooth out as her expression relaxes. “ **_You change the bandage too often. You have to let it breathe--the new skin is trying to grow in but you keep ripping it off. Wash it gently but don’t scrub too hard, and don’t sleep with a bandage on tonight.”_ **

Catra nods in understanding, and Adora wonders if this is her wound cleaning technique how the scars on her back ever managed to heal. 

 **_“Do you still want to go see Jaska tonight..? I can go by myself.”_ **Adora asks carefully, forgetting her earlier anger at Catra’s hypocrisy. 

 **_“No! I mean, no, you don’t have to do that. I’m going with you.”_ ** Catra confirms, still poking at the cut on her chest. 

**_“Okay. Good. Is there--uh, anything I can do to help you get ready?”_ **

**_“Just…”_ ** she glances at the door and Adora thinks she’s going to ask her to leave, **_“sit at the table and give me a few minutes, okay?”_ **

**_“Okay.”_ ** She says, because it’s more than she expected, for Catra to allow her to remain in her inner sanctum and observe her in this semi vulnerable state. Especially after how Adora woke her up. 

Adora pretends to play with her phone while she watches Catra out of the corner of her eye and wonders if she should tell her about her conversation with Shadow Weaver. She stares at the shadows while Catra throws on a shirt (she doesn’t even need a bra and Adora is struck with sudden jealousy for Catra’s small breasts) and combs her fingers through her wild mane of hair. 

 **_“She’s not here.”_ ** Catra signs, and she doesn't need to specify who for Adora to understand who she means.

**_“She has those...weird, spy things…”_ **

**_“Darklings.”_ **

**_“Yeah.”_ **

**_“Can’t you like, sense them, or whatever? With your magic?”_ **

**_“It...doesn’t work that way.”_ **

**_“Doesn’t it?”_ ** Adora rolls her eyes and decides she’ll give Catra a full explanation when they’re not trying to get out the door.

 **_“Look for little red gleaming things or shimmering shadows. They’re good at hiding but not perfect. And I don’t see any in here right now. So! Shall we?_ **” Catra’s dressed and signing with one hand, the other picking up her wallet and phone, a protein bar shoved between her teeth. She looks like a teenager rushing off to high school. 

“ **_Yeah.”_ ** Adora gets up from the table and follows Catra out the door.

 


	14. Chapter 14

They arrive at the Hospital at 1AM. It’s a little scary how easy it is to walk past the receptionist and into the depths of its halls. Jaska is down in the morgue, sitting at a desk doing paperwork. It’s the easiest interrogation Adora’s ever done, honestly. Catra leans against the wall and keeps watch through the tiny windows of the double doors for any signs of trouble. There isn’t any. This place doesn’t even have security cameras.

Jaska’s a cyborg. Hardly the same tier as hybrids and lizardfolk, but far from the level of respect the fae and humans garner. He gives them everything without a fight. In fact he just wants them to leave so that he can finish his work. He does ask that they don’t take his copy of the paperwork or let anyone know he helped them--there’s this unspoken agreement that if they’re not careful Jaska could be harmed for this.

He writes it down on paper because, ironically, it’s more comfortable for him than typing. He says there were two lizardfolk who came to see him. They wore dragon masks, but he could see their claws and tails. They called each other Diamond and Spade. 

Jaska takes his papers out of a safe and lets them take pictures of it. The undoctored tox screen and autopsy report. 

The death, he adds, was not accidental. 

Catra and Adora look at each other when he says this. Neither of them say anything but they’ve both come to the same understanding: the case is back on.

There was a toxin in Hector Hordak’s bloodstream that is known to be lethal. It’s extremely difficult to manufacture, according to Jaska.

Two leads in one night is pretty good work, if Adora can say so herself. They agree to go out to debrief and celebrate.

 

\---

30 minutes later they’re digging into pancakes at a 24 hour diner.

 **_“Alright so the tox report says there was derbazamine in his system--Jaska said that stuff’s pretty toxic and only manufactured in a few places.”_ **Adora reiterates, because Catra was watching the door and not reading his communication with Adora.

There’s only two other patrons, and currently the waitress is sitting at the counter reading a magazine. 

 **_“Denebria. They manufacture all sorts of chemicals there. I bet they can help us.”_ **Catra signs while chewing furiously on a stack of pancakes. 

**_“Someone’s hungry.”_ **

**_“Shut up. You’re eating oatmeal.”_ **Catra grouses as she shovels more food into her mouth. 

 **_“What’s wrong with oatmeal?”_ **Adora scoffs, offended. She folds her arms across her chest and glares at Catra, but there’s a clearly playful tone to their banter. 

 **_“Nothing, if you put bananas and sugar and raisins and stuff in it. But you’re eating it plain. PLAIN.”_ ** She reaches over suddenly grabbing her wrist. Adora surprises herself by not flinching. When did she get to be so comfortable with Catra…? 

Catra isn’t paying any attention to Adora’s observations. She’s busy flicking the back of her claws at the tendons in her wrists. 

 **_“What on Etheria are you doing?”_ ** She laughs.

 **_“Proving you’re a robot. Your arms have some kind of mechanical robot parts in them. Only cyborgs could stand to eat plain oatmeal and straight black coffee. Also there’s no other way you could be so strong. Nobody is allowed to have muscles as big as yours. It’s physically impossible.”_ ** She reaches further up Adora’s arm, squeezing her wrists, then forearms, then her bicep. Her hands are warmer than she would’ve expected. They’re somewhat calloused but overall softer than expected. It’s probably because of the fine layer of orange fur.

“**** ************ *********.” Catra drops Adora’s arm and knocks over a glass of water in her haste to look at this newcomer. 

“******! **** ***** see you here!” Adora would look but she’s busy using napkins to mop up the mess that Catra’s made.

“**** ************* **************?”

“**** ******** ********* **_.I didn’t have time. I’ve been busy.”_ ** Catra says, but has kindly started to sign what she’s saying. When Adora finally looks up she sees who’s standing at the end of their table. It’s the woman. From the Crystal Palace. The one she caught Catra in the closet with.

 **_“She’s mad I didn’t call her.”_ ** Catra signs without breaking contact with the woman.

**_“So you’re not girlfriends, then.”_ **

**_“We’re not--what?”_ ** She has to turn to look at Adora 

**_“She’s not your girlfriend?”_ **

**_“Just because I slept with her one time doesn’t mean--”_ **

“*** ****** ******* ****?” The woman barks, and Catra rolls her eyes. Adora looks at the woman. The woman who slept with Catra. Something sours in her stomach, turning the oatmeal. But...she knew that they’d slept together. She caught them mid-sleeping together. Whatever you call it. The look of ecstasy on the woman’s face, the glint in Catra’s eye, the motion of her hand, the way they were pressed up against one another--

Why did it bother her so much?

And why did this argument right now spark a surge of joy in her chest?

**_“She says, ‘you said you’re busy but you’re here at a diner at 2am?’”_ **

**_“Yeah, it’s work stuff.”_ **

**_“‘Work stuff is grabbing another woman’s bicep and eating pancakes?’”_ ** Adora marvels at Catra’s expression as she bites her lip to hold back the smile that’s threatening to burst onto her face.

 **_“Yep._ **” She says, and coughs, and coughs, so much so that Adora reaches across the table and pats her back in fear the idiot inhaled some pancake.

“Hi. I’m Adora.” She says, looking at the woman. “I would shake your hand but--”

 **_“I’m fine, I’m fine.”_ **Catra signals, and although Adora turns to the woman she keeps arms firmly crossed over her chest.

“ **_What’s her name?_ **” Adora asks, because she’s a little tired of referring to her as ‘the woman’. 

“ **_Uh…”_ ** 

“ **_You don’t know her name?!”_ ** 

“ **_No?”_ **

“ **_Oh my gods, no wonder she’s pissed._ **”

“**** ************* ***** ******?!”

**_“Shit, she thinks we’re laughing at her.”_ **

“I’m sorry--we’re not laughing at you, we’re laughing at Catra.” Adora says out loud, because she knows what it’s like to be left out of a conversation. 

“Cash-ra?” The woman says, mimicking Adora's pronunciation. 

 **_“She has an accent.”_ **Catra signs, a glint in her eyes. Her face is hard lines, suddenly. Adora bites her lip and looks down at the table in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. She pulls her elbows in to her sides.

**_“‘If she’s deaf, why can she speak?’”_ **

**_“Deafness and mutism aren’t mutually exclusive, Veronica.”_ **

**_“‘It’s Janine.’_ **” Catra translates.

**_“Yeah, that’s what I said. Jenna.”_ **

**_“‘**** Shit. I thought **** ** different.’”_ ** Catra’s starting to drop words. 

 **_“Different from what, ******?”_ ** Catra says a name but it’s definitely neither Janine nor Jenna.

**_“‘All other like you.’”_ **

**_“Just say ‘hybrid’, **** **********.”_ **Catra tries to fingerspell but it’s mostly a mess. S-P-E-C-I-E-I-E-T. Speciesist? 

 ** _“‘I’m surprised they **** ******* dirty like you come *** ******. ****  afraid you’re going  ** **** F-L-A-S?’”_** Fleas? Is she trying to fingerspell fleas?

**_“You weren’t worried about S-E-A-F-L-S when I was eating your pussy.”_ **

“*** ****** ****** *******”

“*** *******! ***** ******. **** ****** _begging_ **** *****.” Catra sneers. She’s stopped trying to translate, she’s leaning back in her seat and trying to look relaxed but the tension in her muscles is obvious. Janine is getting red in the face from shouting. Her hands are balled into fists, feet planted on the ground, posture rigid. She takes a step forward, rotating her shoulder like she’s going to--

“I think you should leave.” Adora says as she stands abruptly. 

“** ******* ****?” Janine growls, face twisted into something ugly. She’s twisting with her right arm, gearing up to throw a punch, Adora readies herself to block--and she gets punched. She plants her hands on the table from the force of the blow, landing right in a plate of hashbrowns. Clever. Janine had her thinking the blow would be coming from her right hand but she swung with her left instead.

Adora rights herself and looks at Janine, who is braced on her back foot for a counter attack.

“Did that make you feel better?” She asks. 

“Yes.” Janine says. Her eyes are darting around the room. She doesn’t seem sure of her answer.

“Are you done?”

“...Yes.” 

“Then leave. There’s nothing else for you here. Have a good evening.” Adora doesn’t move towards her, but she doesn't sit down, either. After glancing at Catra, then around at the diner, Janine backs up. Finally, she turns, and walks out of the diner, all the while glancing over her shoulder like she expects Adora to take off after her. She doesn’t. She watches until Janine is out of eyesight, however, and then sits. 

 **_“Don’t do that.”_ **Catra’s resting her elbows on the table, leaning forward, tail tip twitching where it hangs out of the booth. 

 **_“Do...What?”_ ** She looks down at herself, trying to understand what she’s done wrong. Her hand is covered in potatoes. **_“I’m sorry about the hash browns?”_ **

**_“Not the hashbrowns.”_ ** Catra rolls her eyes like she’s dealing with a toddler or a dim witted customer. It stings. **_“I can defend myself.”_ **

Adora reaches a hand up to touch her swelling cheekbone.

**_“I know.”_ **

**_“Then don’t do that again.”_ **

**_“I was helping you!”_ **

**_“I don’t need your help!”_ **

Gods this is exhausting.

 **_“I didn’t do it because I think you can’t defend yourself. I did it because--”_ ** Because I care about you. Because I don’t want you to feel alone. Because I want you to know that I’m on your side.

 **_“Because what, Adora? Because you’ve decided to campaign for Hybrid rights all of a sudden?”_ **Catra retorts hotly, because she’s incapable of being decent for five seconds.

She slides out of her seat.

**_“Where are you going?”_ **

**_“Home.”_ **

**_“But...you haven’t finished your oatmeal.”_ **But Adora gets it, suddenly. You haven’t finished your oatmeal. You haven’t finished talking to me. I don’t want you to go. Catra’s finding excuses to keep her there.

She sits back down.

**_“...The table’s a mess.”_ **

**_“Yeah and that waitress is absolutely no help.”_ **

**_“Honestly we’re lucky we haven’t been kicked out yet.”_ **

**_“I’m sure this is hardly the strangest thing she’s seen in this diner at 2AM… once I caught two women eating whipped cream off each other in the hallway by the bathrooms.”_ **

**_“Are you sure that wasn’t you?”_ ** Adora teases, feeling a little better.

**_“No but I DID fuck a woman in the storage closet of a club.”_ **

**_“And how did that go?”_ **

Catra raises her eyebrows and reaches over to suck at the straw of her milkshake. Adora snorts.

**_“Hey.”_ **

**_“Yeah?”_ **

**_“There’s still potatoes on your hand.”_ **

**_“...So there are.”_ **

They stare at each other for a moment before Catra rolls her eyes--a theme for tonight, apparently--and grabs a fistful of napkins out of the dispenser at the end of their table. She reaches over boldly, comfortable, grabbing Adora’s wrist and turning it so that she can start to wipe off the gooey mess.

She doesn’t say ‘sorry’. But Adora gets the message anyway.

Her hand still feels a little greasy but at least there aren’t chunks anymore.

 **_“Hey, I think the waitress is checking you out.”_ ** Catra signs, nodding in the woman’s direction. Adora immediately turns in her seat to get a better look. The waitress, a young fae woman, looks down as soon as she realizes she’s been caught staring.

**_“She’s just looking at the huge mess we’ve made.”_ **

**_“What’s wrong, stud? Afraid to ask for her number? You could take her in the back and ask to see the whipped cream.”_ **

Adora kicks Catra’s shin under the table.

**_“Oh my God she’s coming over.”_ **

**_“She’s--WHAT!?”_ **

“*** ****** *******?”

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Adora stammers hastily. “If you bring us a rag I promise I’ll clean it up.” They’ve already spilled water and spattered hashbrowns all over their booth. Adora’s starting to wish that she’d walked out of the diner like she’d threatened to, only because the embarrassment is threatening to burn her up alive.

“*** ****** ******* ****?”

“Oh, I’m deaf. Deaf. I can talk but I can’t hear you.”

Adora stacks some of their used plates (she was a waitress, once. Briefly. It was three months during high school. But she still gets it.) and hands them off. The fae woman signs ‘thank you’ with a big grin. 

 **_“She’s asking if you want anything else.”_ ** Catra translates, and if Adora had a mirror she knows her ears would be red. 

“Uh, no, uh,”

**_“She says she can get you another cup of coffee. On the house.”_ **

“Well, I mean, if you’re offering--”

**_“My friend wants your number.”_ **

“Catra!” Adora yelps.

The waitress looks at Adora and smiles. Her cheeks are dusted with pink. There are flowers in her horns. She’s cute. But this is...this is...not the way that Adora would’ve kicked off their relationship. Well, okay. If it were up to Adora she’d probably be staring at her from across the room, too scared to make a move. She doesn’t know how to approach cute girls. Where’s Bow? She needs Bow. How doe she tell this woman that she’s not interested without being rude…?

While Adora’s mentally scrambling, the waitress hands her a slip of paper.

 **_“I hate you so much.”_ ** Adora signs at Catra while presenting the waitress with her biggest smile. The waitress winks at her, then takes the gathered dishes and disappears into the kitchen.

**_“What? Girls are constantly fawning over you. Guys, too. Have you seriously not noticed?”_ **

**_“I guess I’m just...I… mean people are nice to me but that’s not flirting.”_ **

**_“You’re so fucking dumb. It’s cute.”_ **

She had a girlfriend, once, in college. They were together for about 5 months. She went by Skylar. Adora thought they were perfect for one another; both ambitious, both wrapped up in their studies, both determined to make the world a better place. They ended it mutually. They were TOO wrapped up in their studies, they hardly ever saw each other. They kissed quite a lot and there was some heavy petting, but never progressed to having sex. Adora sometimes wonders if that was a contributing factor for Skylar’s desire to break it off.

 **_“I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”_ ** She explains to Catra as she plays with the scrap of paper with the seven digits inscribed onto it.

 **_“You don’t have to be. Screw her brains out and move on.”_ ** Adora refrains from wincing at Catra’s crass language. Barely. 

**_“Yeah because that worked out so well for you.”_ **

**_“Fuck off, Grayskull.”_ ** Catra retorts, throwing a wadded up napkin at Adora.

The waitress comes back and pours Adora another cup of coffee. She smiles and nods while Catra smirks at her and watches through half lidded eyes across the table.

They finish their meals and pay the bill. Adora’s sure to leave a hefty tip in an attempt to preemptively ward off feelings of guilt. She knows she’s never going to call this poor woman.

Catra stretches, rolling her neck, arching her back, her breasts pressed against the fabric of her shirt--Adora looks away hastily before someone notices her staring.

They leave the diner together, but once they’re on the street Adora knows that they have to part. Her apartment is on the other side of town from Catra’s warehouse.

**_“Okay. Just to reiterate. You’re going to contact someone from Deneb..Demb..D..”_ **

**_“Denebria.”_ **

**_“Right, Denebria, and I’m going to look through police records cross referencing the company called Fourth Right and Lizardmen in dragon masks in the last year.”_ **

**_“Right.”_ ** Catra nods **_. “Oh--also. It’s possible Rattlor knows who they are.”_ **

**_“Isn’t that speciesist?”_ **Adora asks, trying not to smile. Catra was just chewing someone out for this same thing.

 **_“A little.”_ ** She shrugs. **_“The Snakemen are a species based crime syndicate. It’s not out of the question that Rattlor knows something.”_ **

**_“Okay. You’ll talk to him?”_ **

**_“So, there’s this party coming up. At the TaiPan. And I’ve been invited. And I’m allowed to bring a plus one.”_ **The TaiPan is one of the wealthiest, most exclusive clubs in the city of Bright Moon. Catra being invited to a party there is...unfathomable. It’s run by Kobra Khan, a known snakemen supremacist. And there’s an exclusive party happening there. And Catra’s been invited. Catra who sleeps with girls and doesn’t call them back and stuffs her face with pancakes. Catra.

 **_“That’s...wow.”_ ** What’s she supposed to say? **_“Who are you taking as your plus one?”_ **Surely not Janine. Lonnie? Kyle? Rogelio? Octavia?

 **_“Adora you’re so fucking stupid sometimes.”_ ** Catra signs, but she’s laughing, and Adora’s not sure if she should be offended or laugh, too. 

**_“I want YOU to come with me as my plus one.”_ **

**_“You...do.”_ **

**_“Is that okay?”_ **If Adora weren’t having her own internal crisis she might have noticed the way Catra’s biting her lip, how she keeps her signs close to her body, how she’s rocking back and forth on one foot.

**_“I...I don’t have anything to wear.”_ **

Catra grins, a full smile, genuine, not one of her subtle smirks. It makes Adora’s heart leap into her throat. It might be even better than the invite to the TaiPan. 

**_“We’ll get you something. But that’s a yes?”_ **

**_“I--yes! Yes!”_ ** She tries to remember that this is supposed to be a work trip, and that they’ll be surrounded by enemies, and that Hordak’s killer might even be there, and that anyone could realize she’s an undercover cop, but even knowing all of those things can’t put a damper on her mood. She feels like a middle school girl whose crush has just invited her to Homecoming.

 **_“Cool._ **” Catra says, shrugging her shoulders like it’s no big deal.

 **_“Okay.”_ ** Adora smiles. 

They should be going.

It’s like 3AM. 

She has to be up in 4 hours for another temp security job. 

 **_“I guess I should get going._ **” Catra signs, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder to indicate she needs to go.

 **_“I...I guess I do too…”_ ** She doesn't want to. She wants some excuse to stay with Catra longer. **_“Hey, make sure you let that breathe.”_ ** Adora points at the spot she knows the wound on Catra’s chest is located.

**_“Yeah, okay. I’ll be careful.”_ **

**_“Okay.”_ **

**_“Okay.”_ **

**_“Get home safe.”_ **

**_“Yeah, you too.”_ **

**_“Text me?”_ **

**_“Will do.”_ **

Adora’s lying in bed staring at the ceiling, reliving the day, trying to quash some of the excitement burbling in her chest. Her phone buzzes and she snatches it up.

C: Home now.

A: Ok, make sure you wash your wound.

C: Wash it?

A: Yeah, just gently though. Don’t want to rip off anymore skin.

C: You’ve done this a lot, haven’t you?

A: I have to get first aid and CPR certified every 2 years in order to stay in the Force.

C: The more you know.

C: Hey make sure you put ice on your face. It's probably gonna be super purple tomorrow.

She texts Catra for another hour. 

The next day she’s exhausted and not a single bit sorry.

 


	15. Chapter 15

She thinks about telling Angella. She should tell Angella. She really should.

She doesn’t tell Angella.

Angella tried to teach Adora magic in the past. She was never successful. As one of the Royals magic was an inherent ability for her. To teach it would be the same as teaching one how to breathe, or how to walk. 

Her inability to help Adora control her powers was a constant frustration, but she never really gave up. Even now she’ll occasionally approach Adora with a new idea of how to control her powers. Going to Shadow Weaver for help feels like a betrayal.

So Adora says nothing.

 

* * *

 

**_“All magic is derived from the twelve ancient runestones. Those who have a stronger connection to their runestones have more power. It’s not fully understood. The Royal Families have the most prolific abilities. Some believe that those with Royal blood have a gene in their DNA that allows them to better interface with the Runestones.”_ ** Shadow Weaver explains carefully. Some of this Adora is familiar with from her lessons in school. More of it she’s familiar with from Angella. More of it still is completely new to her.

**_“One’s connection to their magic will show itself as they undergo puberty, which is why youth are required to be tested once a year from ages 12 to 18._ **

**_“Although the Runestones have been around for millennia, our ability to harness their powers only developed a few hundred years ago. Magic didn’t spread to people outside of the Royal Families until a few decades ago. It was then discovered that the stronger someone’s magic was, the less stable it was. Many people found that although they had a connection, their minds were incompatible with the magic itself. The more they tried to use their magic, the more of their sanity they lost._ **

**_“Even lesser magic, if used too often, can cause mental degradation. You recall the White Fever?”_ ** She doesn’t, but she’s been told many a story. A magic user known only as the Sorceress was renowned in the medical community for trying to manufacture spells to cure diseases like Rispah’s Whisper, Viet’s Revenge, and WEKS. Then, over time, the magic poisoned her mind. Instead of curing illnesses, she developed one: The White Fever. It killed thousands and disabled thousands more. 

Angella thinks that Adora’s deafness may be the result of the White Fever but she has no way to confirm and Adora doesn’t remember. The memory loss itself might have been related to the Fever.

But that’s too complicated to explain right now.

**_“I remember the Fever.”_ ** She signs instead.

**_“The Fever is the reason why the Department of Unregulated Magical Practitioners exists. It is why we test our children. It is why those who show proficiency with magics are closely monitored. It is known for some lesser Practitioners to slip their notice, but how someone with so much power has managed to evade them for so long is remarkable, frankly._ ** ” Shadow Weaver doesn’t say anything but Adora wonders how much she has guessed about Angella’s involvement. Adora herself is unsure of the specifics, but she knows that Angella has been shielding her for years.

**“Now tell me, Adora. What month were you born in?”**

One’s connection to a Runestone is dependent on the month they were born in.

Adora doesn’t know what month she was born in.

They celebrate her birthday in January, but it’s only a guess.

**_“Uh.”_ ** She says by making half letters and wiggling her fingers, not committing to anything. Because even if she could tell Shadow Weaver when her birthday was it wouldn’t matter. Angella’s already discovered that Adora isn’t connected to any of the known Runestones. It’s quite remarkable, actually; Adora is a living piece of scientific and magical phenomena. Which is, of course, why they can absolutely never tell anyone.

**_“January.”_ **

**_“Your connection is with the Fractal Flake, then. Now, step onto the identify spell and summon your sword.”_ ** Adora hesitates. Yes, this is helping her to understand more about magic and it’s giving her a chance to gain Shadow Weaver’s trust, but she’s also letting Shadow Weaver know more about  _ her _ . Is that such a great idea…?

**_“Your sword.”_ ** Shadow Weaver snaps, and Adora obeys. She walks onto the symbol inscribed onto the concrete floor of the warehouse.

The blade materializes in her hands in a swirl of smoke.

Shadow Weaver looks down at the symbol, her face illegible beneath the mask.

**_“No...that can’t be right. Please dispel your weapon.”_ ** She does so.  **_“Summon it once more.”_ **

**_“There’s a cool down...I have to wait a bit.”_ **

**_“Very well. Stand aside.”_ ** She does, and Shadow Weaver opens a book and pours over the markings she’s made over the ground. 

When she feels the familiar buzz in the back of her mind telling her that her sword’s available once more she raises her hand. It’s like she’s back in grade school. And yet...she can’t bring herself to dislike it. Not when Shadow Weaver seems so eager.

**_“Step back onto the circle. Summon your blade.”_ ** She instructs, and Adora is helpless to do anything but obey.

**_“I don’t recognize the Runestone my spell is indicating you’re connected with...but there is nothing wrong with the spell…”_ ** Adora stands military straight, shoulders squared, eyes forward, sword gripped firmly in her palm as she waits for the shoe to drop.

**_“A thirteenth Runestone.”_ **

There it is.

**_“You have more, don’t you?”_ ** Adora doesn’t look at her. **_“More power. The sword is just the start. The Woman in White from the Triple 6...She-Ra.”_ ** She doesn’t move. Her throat hurts. She doesn’t swallow. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t breathe. 

**_“My dear… We...are going to do_ ** **remarkable** **_things together.”_ ** And that shouldn’t be soothing, but still the tension bleeds out of Adora’s chest like a slowly deflating balloon. 

* * *

 

**_“Summon your blade.”_ ** Shadow Weaver commands once more, and, once more, Adora obeys.

**_“Attack the target.”_ ** She lunges for the training dummy and cleaves it right in two, the torso sliding off and onto the ground. The bottom half smokes where she sliced it through. 

**_“Throw your sword, then summon it back.”_ **

**_“Hand it to me. Summon it back.”_ **

**_“Give me your sword. Close your eyes. Summon it back.”_ **

**_“I will aim a spell at you. Block it with your sword.”_ **

It goes on and on and on. Adora obeys every command without question. Sometimes Shadow Weaver will write things down or look up something in one of the books she has brought with her, but mostly she nods and they move on.

**_“This has been very informative, thank you.”_ ** Shadow Weaver signs. She ticks off something in a journal. **_“Now I want to take it further. So far your magic has been stable. You have remarkable control over your blade.”_ **

Adora sketches a quick ‘thank you’.

**_“Let’s try for a transformation, now. Can you do partial?”_ **

Panic rises in her chest. She doesn’t have control. It isn’t safe.

**_“You need not fear. I will help to control you.This is a safe environment.”_ **

**_"I don't know if I can."_ **

**_"How about you start by describing what happens to you."_ **

**_"Okay. I can feel this...It's like a muscle that I can flex, but it's not attached to any part of my body. When I'm going to summon my sword I get this static feeling in my palm. It grows to feel like a crackling that moves down my arm and to my heart and through my body. It doesn't hurt but it's not comfortable either. When I flex that muscle the static gets worse, with bursts of it radiating from my palm. When it reaches my head my vision starts to tunnel. Sometimes it goes completely black. The more panicked I am the more likely I am to lose control."_ **

**_"Interesting. Can you use any other magic without transforming?"_ **

**_"Only what my sword allows."_ **

**_"I see. May I?"_ ** She holds out her hands. Adora isn't sure what she's referring to. She bites her lip, metal of her sword handle warm in her hand.  **_"You've been a very good student. I can only help you if you let me. You want help, don't you, dear?"_ ** Yes. more than anything. 

**_"Stay still."_ ** She steps forward and reaches for Adora As soon as Shadow Weaver makes contact the static starts. Sharp bolts lance across her skin. Panic blooms in her, hot and choking. It feels like someone is electrocuting her and forcing her muscles to tense up, so  she flexes her magic without intending to. It washes over her. Her vision tunnels. Power consumes her with a voracious, undeniable hunger. She feels like she can fist fight a god and win. And she wants to. There's all this energy and it wants--it needs an outlet. Her vision tunnels and she ROARS. Magic overflows from her fingertips and she grabs a table and breaks it in half over her knee like it's nothing. It soothes the rage in her--but only for a moment. She has to rip. Tear. Because if she doesn't give it an outlet, it'll tear HER apart.

No. no, no, no. She can't do this. She can't. The effort it takes is Herculean. The desire to exert this energy before it destroys her from the inside is phenomenal. She won't give in to it. She can't. Panting, sweating though she's hardly moved, she sits on the cold concrete floor. 

There's a sickening twisting sensation like someone is pulling something through her skin, a sensation of Wrongness, something sliding about inside of her-- and then it's over, and she's Adora, on her hands and knees, gasping. 

She gets unsteadily to her feet. She's shaking like a newborn lamb. Nausea wells in her and she races towards the bathroom. By some miracle she forces the toilet lid up before offering the contents of her stomach to the porcelain god. 

Her gut revolts a few more times, even after she's given everything she has. She rests her sweaty forehead against the rim of the bowl. Bile is sharp and rancid in the back of her throat. Her tongue and teeth are coated with a disgusting film. Her heart threatens to pound out of her ribcage. She sucks in several deep, shuddering breaths. She can't stay here long. Shadow Weaver...Adora didn't hurt her, did she? 

She splashes water on her face, washes out her mouth. 

"Shadow Weaver?" She calls out. Or she thinks she does. Her throat feels scraped raw. When she comes around the corner, Shadow Weaver is leaning against a table, thumbing through a book. Relief.

**_“I suppose not everything could be a resounding success on the first day.”_ ** Adora bites the inside of her cheek and looks down, feeling the sharp sting of shame.

**_“Ready to try again?”_ ** Shadow Weaver asks, and Adora feels another wave of nausea sweep over her. Adora is many things but a coward is not one of them. 

She nods.   
  


* * *

 

It’s not any easier the second time. At least her stomach is already empty.

The third time she manages to hold onto her own consciousness for a few moments before the need to  _ tear _ and  _ pull _ wells up in her throat. She manages to drop the magic faster than her previous two attempts as well, but when she comes to she’s absolutely drenched in sweat. It’s like she was dunked in a pool. Her arms are shaking so badly she can barely hold herself up. 

**_“I think that will be enough for now.”_ ** Shadow Weaver signs, and Adora could weep for relief. She knows that if Shadow Weaver asked her to do it again that she would. She’ll keep transforming til she can’t. That unnameable muscle she flexes to change her shape--she feels out for it in her mind and winces. It aches like after a rigorous workout. It aches like she’s been fighting for her life. So do her other muscles. Her head is pounding.

**_“I will contact you with my findings. Until then, try to meditate for 30 minutes a day.”_ ** Shadow Weaver does not offer to help Adora up off of the floor.  **_“Summon your sword two or three times a day. Use blasts to hit targets at a forty foot distance once every other day. Doing these things should help to exercise your muscle and make you more comfortable with your magic. Understood?”_ **

**_“Yes.”  S_ ** he manages to gasp out, because her arms are too weak even to raise in a sign.

**_“Good. And… you did well today. You have incredible abilities. With some practice, you’ll be able to use your powers, instead of letting them use you.”_ ** She walks over to where Adora is and places a hand on the top of her head. “ **_Get cleaned up. I will see you next week._ ** ” And then she’s gone.

* * *

 

How long it takes before she manages to stand up she's not sure. When she gets on her bus the driver stops her and asks if she's okay. She manages to communicate that she's fine. She says she's meeting a friend at her stop, so that he will leave her alone. She thinks she passes out once or twice during the ride. She doesn’t remember much.

Thank the Gods her apartment has an elevator.

She stumbles into her little home. She needs to brush her teeth. There's an order of operations here and she knows she has to follow it. In the bathroom she squeezes toothpaste onto the bristles as best she can while seeing double. One step. One task. She tells herself just this one last thing, then I can rest. She finishes brushing her teeth. Turn on the shower. Sleep after you turn on the shower. She turns it on. Okay, take off your clothes. you can sleep after you take off your clothes.

It's this way, through these series of compromises, that she manages to clean herself and swallow down two protein bars before she finally, finally crawls into bed. 

 

She wakes up the next morning and goes to work at her temp security job. Her supervisor takes one look at her and sends her home. 

 

B: You look like shit. I'm amazed you managed to get out of bed this morning.

A: I’m okay, it’s fine!

B: No, you’re not. If you’re tight for cash, I’ll give you my sick time. Go home.

 

What else can she do?

When she wakes next she's amazed. It's only 20 minutes after she laid her head down. Then she realizes that a full 24 hours have passed. 

There's a new email sitting in her inbox.

 

Subj: n/a

Sender: shspnr@101010aexuqxjzcf.net

 

Adora.

We require your presence at a meeting on the 15th at 10.00 PM. 

Catra will fill you on the details.

-SW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments <3  
> What the HELL was season 3 Im in so much pain  
> Chapter 16 will be the business deal/meeting on the 15th, and then it's the party at the TaiPan. Apologies for something of a slower chapter, thank you for bearing with the exposition!


	16. Chapter 16

A: Shadow Weaver says I have to get details about a meeting from you?

C: Yeah I’ll fill you in later

C: I want to investigate Diamond and Spade

A: But I already asked my contact to run a search?

 

She managed to persuade Netossa to look for any petty crimes committed in the last few years with two lizardfolk using the aliases Diamond and Spade. Presumably there’s a computer at the precinct filtering through thousands of digitized files. 

 

She starts typing to tell Catra that the computer is already doing it’s thing when--

 

C: No I got it

 

Well, jeez.

 

A: So what am I supposed to do?

C: Tell her to stop? Idk. We can still go to Denebria together?

 

Right. Denebria. That’s the lab where the derbazamine is manufactured. The lethal drug they found in Hordak’s system.

  
A: How about, I let my search finish running. You do your thing. Then you come over and we compile our findings… we can also talk about that thing that Shadow Weaver wants me to attend. 

C: Oh the meeting on the 15th? She told you about that?

A: Yeah she says you’re supposed to fill me in?   
C: Figures she never bothered to tell me...

A: Are we good?   
C: Yeah yeah okay. 

A: Okay cool. Come to my place in 3 days, bring whatever you’ve got. 

C: ok. Txt me your addy.

 

\---

 

Three days later and 20 minutes late, there’s a notification on her phone that someone is ringing her doorbell. She pulls it open and there’s Catra, plaid tied around her waist, leather jacket over her shoulders, fishnet shirt and feet as bare as ever.

 

**_“You look like shit.”_ ** Catra signs after her blue-yellow eyes look her up and down. 

 

**_“Hello to you, too.”_ ** Adora snorts, but Catra’s already pushing past her. 

 

**_“Can you wipe your feet?”_ ** Adora asks. She’d make Catra take her shoes off, if she wore any.

 

“Ughhhh,” Catra groans, but she does as she’s asked. It gives Adora a moment to check her reflection in the screen of her phone. Does she really look that bad? She had a lesson with Shadow Weaver yesterday and it left her feeling exhausted…

 

**_“Decent digs you got here.”_ ** Catra signs, scoping out the place. Her tail sways back and forth casually by her calves. It’s stupidly cute. No, don’t focus on that!

 

**_“I mean, uh, it’s not much, but it’s home.”_ ** It’s a one bed and 500 square feet. She could certainly do worse.

 

**_“Is that a conspiracy board?”_ ** Adora loves it when Catra smiles so wide that her sharp teeth peek out. Her appreciation almost masks out the prickle of embarrassment at the board she’s made. Almost.

 

**_“Yes. I--”_ ** Catra walks over to the living room area and looks at the wall of evidence.

 

**_“Can you tell me about the thing on the fifteenth?”_ **

 

**_“Fine, fine. Shadow Weaver’s doing a business transaction and she wants you there...extra muscle or something I guess. Nothing should happen, you’re just insurance. It’s pretty standard fare.”_ **

 

**_“So she’s...what? Selling? Buying? What’s the deal?”_ **

 

**_“I don’t know. Selling spells, probably. She has something of a monopoly on magic, so she sells out single use spells to the highest bidder. She makes bank.”_ ** She must be saving for something big. Maybe a house, so Catra and Lonnie and the others have a real place to live instead of an old warehouse.

 

**_“Hello?”_ ** Catra’s waving her hand in her face. Adora smacks it down.

 

**_“What?”_ **

 

**_“You gonna walk me through this crazy thing?”_ ** She asks, pointing a claw at the wall.

 

**_“Yeah! Here--I was just working on this when you came in. The search that I had my friend run? Turns out a duo known as Diamond and Spade committed grand theft auto a few years ago.”_ **

 

“ **_Bribery of a government official is a pretty drastic change of pace from grand theft auto.”_ **

 

**_“I know, I thought the same. So I asked my contact if she could get me their files. She’s supposed to be sending copies over tomorrow or the next day.”_ **

 

Something flashes across Catra’s face, but before Adora can pinpoint it it’s gone.

 

**_“Cool. I’ve asked a few people but so far no dice. What’s the rest of this..? What are these categories?”_ ** She gestures at the large labels on the wall as she settles herself into Adora’s office chair. Took no time in making herself right at home. It’s very Catra.

 

**_“Okay, so.”_ ** She turns to the labels on her wall.  **_“There are three things that you need to get a murderer convicted: motive, means, and opportunity.”_ **

 

**_“Motive, means, and opportunity...but we don’t need to get him convicted. We just need to know who did it.”_ ** Catra points out. She’s sitting slouched with her legs apart.

 

**_“Well, you also need to be able to prove it to Horde Prime, right?”_ ** Adora signs, tucking the ruler she’s been using as a pointer under her arm so her hands are free to communicate.

 

**_“Right…”_ **

 

**_“So we don’t have to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt like we do in the courts, but we still have to prove it.”_ **

 

**_“Yeah… Okay. Carry on.”_ **

 

**_“So, motive. It stands that anyone who had something to gain from his death wanted him to die. This wasn’t an impulsive act...whoever killed him had to go out and get the derbazamine-- a controlled substance, by the way--and then make sure that it was injected into his system.”_ **

 

**_“Or ingested. Autopsy report didn’t mention any puncture marks.”_ **

 

**_“Right! Oh good catch. We shoulder check the kitchen staff. But that’s means--let’s get back to motive. Who stands the most to gain?”_ ** Adora asks.

 

“ **_Skeletor and Shadow Weaver. They were the lieutenants underneath Hordak. That’s why this whole gang war is happening right now...well, part of it. They’ve been butting heads for years. Shadow Weaver wants Hordak to give her more territory to sell Stallos, and he wants to break her monopoly on selling spells, but that’s minor...whoever takes Hordak’s place gets what they want without having to compromise.”_ **

 

**_“Okay. So they’re at the top. But they’re not the kind to do the murder themselves, are they?”_ **

 

**_“No. Because obviously, if they did, they killed him without Prime’s permission. Killing a Horde officer without permission is a serious breach of code. Like, ‘there’s a bounty for your death’ breach of code.”_ **

 

**_“Then why wouldn’t whoever didn’t kill him push for more investigation into his death?”_ **

 

**_“Involving the police without Prime’s permission is also a violation of code. It would be a high profile case, which the Horde doesn’t want. They want to operate from the shadows.”_ **

 

**_“This gang war isn’t exactly ‘low profile’.”_ ** Adora counters.

 

**_“Touche.”_ ** Catra slouches further into her (Adora’s) seat. She’s getting little orange hairs all over the black fabric. Adora has to bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling. **_“Plus, it’s possible that whoever killed him covered it up before the other knew it was murder. I mean the autopsy says ‘accidental.’”_ **

 

**_“Maybe, but that’s pretty suspicious, don’t you think?”_ **

 

Catra just shrugs.

 

**_“We’re getting off topic. Let’s just find out who killed him. So--the most motive. Skeletor or Shadow Weaver.”_ ** She points to their pictures, set up side by side beneath a sticky note that reads “MOTIVE”. 

 

**_“Means--Whoever had access to that drug. Derbazamine. Opportunity: Whoever was at that party.”_ **

 

**_“We need a guest list.”_ **

 

**_“Exactly.”_ **

 

Catra’s yellow-blue gaze snaps to Adora’s. 

 

**_“We have to break into Hordak’s mansion.”_ **

 

Well Adora can’t say she didn’t see it coming. 

 

**_“Okay.”_ **

 

**_“Okay?”_ ** Her eyes are wide and hands open, like she’s surprised at Adora’s willingness to openly break the law. As if she hasn’t broken a dozen laws already.

 

**_“Yeah. How else will we get the list? We need it so that we can cross reference the list of names with the list of people who have access to the derbazamine--which you said you can get from the Mutants. If we get a match, we’ll know who our killer is.”_ **

 

**_“That will tell us who killed Hordak, but not who they’re working for.”_ ** Catra replies.

 

**_“We can question them. Maybe dig into their accounts. I have a feeling that whoever paid them--whatever dummy account or corporation, is the same one that paid off Jaska.”_ **

 

**_“And where do Diamond and Spade fit into this?”_ **

 

**_“It’s possible one or both of them is the killer. They might be able to tell us who hired them. At the very least, they’re part of the cover up. They’re an important lead.”_ **

 

**_“This is some complicated shit.”_ ** Catra signs, using one hand to massage her jaw muscles.

 

**_“It’s a crime syndicate. Of course it’s complicated.”_ ** Catra works for them, shouldn’t she understand how complicated it is? It’s a huge spiderweb of thread and it’s up to Adora to follow the right ones, to unravel this mess so they can find the killer. So she can put all of these people behind bars. So she can pull out the one jenga block and collapse the entire tower. The tower that Catra is a  part of.

 

**_“Okay. So. To do: Get the list from the Mutes. I’ll have to pull a few strings but it shouldn’t be too hard. They’re pretty neutral towards Weaver. Second… try to track down Diamond and Spade for questioning. Find out who is paying them. Third...break into Hordak’s mansion and get the guest list.”_ **

 

**_“Easy, right?”_ ** She Catra scoffs.

 

**_“Easy.”_ ** Adora grins with confidence. They can do this. They can DO this. After months of moping about her life has a purpose again. It has direction. She has a goal to head towards.

 

If only that goal didn’t involve dismantling Catra’s life…

 

\---

 

On the 15th Adora shows up, just like she was asked. She has to be a good soldier. She needs to earn Shadow Weaver’s trust. 

 

Apparently she’s doing something right, because Shadow Weaver asks for her to stand by her side as she conducts business. Catra, who is also there, seems displeased about this, but she speaks only with her words so Adora isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. There’s shouting. Catra is PISSED. She wants to ask what’s going on but everyone’s ignoring her. 

 

Finally Catra turns, her tail flicking rapidly from side to side. Shadow Weaver turns to the briefcase she’s placed on the table.

 

Adora jogs over to her.

 

“What was--” Adora tries to ask, but Catra keeps walking. She slams the door closed behind her. Adora wants to follow, but Shadow Weaver’s motioning for her to come over. With a pained look over her shoulder, she returns to Weaver’s side.

 

Shortly after that, the business associate enters the bar.

 

There’s a tense moment when they go to grab the briefcase that Shadow Weaver is handing over and she doesn’t let go. Adora understands. He’s not giving Weaver what she’s owed. So she summons her blade, energy crackling in her hands. Their client’s eyes dart to the magic blade in her hand and he pales. He looks over to one of his lackeys and nods. They bring over a bag and withdraw a stack of credits from within. Shadow Weaver lets go of the brief case. She has Scorpia count the stack for her, then nods. 

 

After it’s over and they’re gone, Catra comes back inside. Apparently she was guarding the door to the bar as a lookout. Adora tries to approach her and strike up a conversation, but Catra’s gone right to the bar to speak with Scorpia. Adora tries to get her attention for a few more moments before she accepts the fact that Catra’s ignoring her and goes home.

 

\---

 

A: Catra?

A: Catra? Hey?

A: Why are you ignoring me?

C: If I explain why I'm ignoring you then I'm not exactly ignoring you, am I

A: Can you please just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix this?

C: You should already know

A: Well forgive me for not being able to read minds

C: no.

 

She throws her phone across the room in frustration.

 

\---

 

Adora isn't really the 'drink by yourself' kinda girl, but here she is at the Alibi, trying to find the answers to her problems at the bottom of a glass.

 

**_"Beer."_ ** She signs, looking around for Scorpia. 

 

"Beer!" She calls out loud.

 

A scrap of paper is slid across the bar top towards her. The letters are giant and sloppy. 

 

I think you should slow down. - Scorpia 

 

"Why?" she grouses. What's the point? At least this way she can't feel it. Can't feel the exhaustion from the rigorous training sessions with Shadow Weaver. Can't feel the increasing mounting pressure to produce concert evidence on the Horde's criminal activities. 

 

"She's mad at me." Adora says, looking up at Scorpia who is tabbing through something on the bar's computer. "She's mad at me and I probably deserve it. But why!? I just want to know why!"

 

I can't understand what you're saying. -Scorpia.

 

"You don't have to sign your name each time I can actually see you writing it down." She says, but it probably comes out garbled. 

 

She wants you to apologize. - Scorpia.

 

**_"For what!? I don't know what I did!"_ ** She signs, angry. "What did I do? I can't read her mind!" Catra is one of the few people Adora knows who can sign and yet her communication is still garbage.

 

You took her job. Shadow Weaver put her on lookout duty outside. - Scorpia

 

**_"What? No. when?"_ ** She signs, and then when Scorpia furrows her brows Adora repeats it out loud.

 

A few nights ago. The deal. Remember? - Scorpia.

 

Oh.

 

"That's not my fault." Shadow Weaver put her there. Adora didn't have a say! It's not her fault that Shadow Weaver noticed she's better at fighting.

 

She seems to think it is. -Scorpia 

 

"Well, tsnot. ‘Nother beer. Now. Please." 

 

733 - Ghx -Scorpia. 

 

"Wh...whassis?"

 

The license plate of the uber I called for you. It's time for you to go home. - Scorpia. 

 

Fine. 

 

Adora goes home, muttering to herself in sign langauge the entire time. Before she falls asleep she pulls out her phone.

 

A: I was bit in control of what haoowbwd. it is unfsot you are mad at me. 

 

She brushes her teeth and gets ready for bed to the best of her ability. She completely forgets about the text she sent until she picks up her phone and sees a new message notification. 

 

C: I shouldn't be surprised that you type in full sentences when you're drunk, but I am. 

 

Adora scowls. This conversation is not about how inebriated she is.

 

A: I need for you to focus. You need to keep up wuth the convsratio.

C: You're really wasted huh?

A: I'm not aieet.

A: spotty. 

A:sry

C: it's really hard to be mad at you when you're this drunk

A: then don't me at me. 

A: being angry is exhausting my way

A: anyway

C: You at home?

A: Yeah Scoro made me get a car

A: Scoro

A: scorp!!!!

A: Scorpia

A: I'll not sur3 sh3 likes me very much

C: Your obliviousness is actually kind of incredible.

A: YOUR obivousness is incredible

C: touche?

C: Get some sleep. 

A: YUou don’t control me.

 

She goes to sleep anyway. But not because Catra told her to. Just because she’s tired.

For once, she doesn’t dream of anything.

 

In the morning there’s another text from Catra:   
  


C: Hey I have a thing to do today. A sale. Wanna come with?

 

Her head aches and she can hardly condone the sale of what is almost definitely something illegal (drugs), but this feels like an olive branch. 

  
  


A: What time?

 

\---

 

So it is that Adora finds herself sitting in the bed of a black pickup truck drinking from a can of beer. She’s not sure if the car is Catra’s or Shadow Weaver’s. She hasn’t asked, and Catra hasn’t offered. Catra did bring the alcohol, though. Another component of the olive branch, Adora thinks. 

 

It’s still bull that Catra was mad at her, and that she won’t properly apologize, but she’s trying. She’s trying. And...her heart is tired. She wants the soft safe feelings she has with Catra to come back.

 

**_“Hey.”_ ** She waves, getting Catra’s attention **_. “Do you have a name sign?”_ **

 

There are a few stars sprinkled in the sky, though Adora thinks some might be satellites. 

 

Catra throws back her head and downs the remainder of her drink, then crushes it flat with her palm.

 

**_“No.”_ ** She finally answers.

 

**_“Why not?”_ ** Adora asks.

 

**_“Was never give one.”_ ** She shrugs.

 

**_“Well maybe we should fix that.”_ ** Catra turns, her profile lit with distant street lights. There’s something like wonder on her face. Only deaf or hard of hearing people can give hearing people name signs, so sometimes it’s considered an honor. Some people think you need to earn it. In this instance though Adora’s just been...she’s not sure, exactly, why she’s been holding off. 

 

**_“What’s your name sign, anyway?”_ ** Catra asks, popping the tab of another beer.

 

**_“Adora.”_ ** She demonstrates; a sign for A, tapped to her chin a few times. Catra looks down, hair falling in front of her face to hide her smile. Adora sees it anyway.

**_“What?”_ **

 

**_“That’s the same sign as ice cream.”_ **

 

**_“My--my best friend gave it to me.”_ **

 

**_“Not your mom?”_ **

 

She draws her knees up to her chest. 

 

**_“I don’t remember my mom.”_ **

 

**_“She leave you when you were little?”_ ** She just shrugs and wipes her nose.

 

**_"Mine did."_ ** Catra signs, not looking at her, dropping this bomb like it's crumpled up newspaper. 

 

**_"Shadow Weaver isn't your mom?"_ ** Adora wonders. In retrospect, it’s a pretty dumb question.

 

**_"What? we? no? where did you get that idea?"_ ** Catra recoils in obvious disgust. 

 

**_"I mean she's always around and--I don't know!"_ ** She stammers defensively. Part of her considers Angela her mother. She forgets that parents are supposed to look like their children. 

 

**_"I dunno who my mom is but I'm sure she's a hell of a lot better than Shadow Weaver."_ **

 

**_"I don't know. She seems okay to me."_ **

 

**_"Okay? Seems Okay? Did I read that right?" Catra gestures wildly, lips curled over her teeth._ **

 

**_"Calm down. What's the big deal? She's been pretty good to me."_ **

 

**_"To you, maybe!"_ **

 

She's starting to get annoyed, now.

 

**_"You can't write off everyone you don't like as an asshole."_ **

 

**_"Yeah? Watch me."_ **

 

They stew in silence,  together but separate. It doesn't last long though, because a black car rolls into their abandoned parking lot with its lights blaring.

 

Adora moves around to grab the briefcase from the cabin. 

 

So much for making peace.

 

\---

She goes to sleep that night (morning? It’s 4 AM when she crawls into her bed). There’s a sour feeling in her gut. She’s only known Catra for what, a month? And yet when they’re fighting it feels like the whole world is off kilter. 

 

When she sleeps, she dreams of drowning in the ocean.

 

\---

 

There’s another e-mail from Shadow Weaver.

  
  


Subj: n/a

Sender: shspnr@1asdfwqqqxjzcf.net

 

Adora.

Catra has been unruly recently. There’s an important delivery that I need made and I don’t trust her to complete the transaction safely in her current state. I require that you assist her.

You will find the details in a package delivered to your apartment. 

-SW

 

There’s a rush of fear through her--Shadow Weaver knows where her apartment is…? The only person from the Horde who knows where she lives is Catra, and she doesn’t seem the type to share that kind of information with Shadow Weaver. Maybe she didn’t share it willingly? Or maybe Shadow Weaver had a darkling follow her home one night? Adora immediately scans the shadows, squinting for any abnormalities. 

 

She’s pretty sure she’s safe. For now, at least.

 

It doesn’t matter how Shadow Weaver found out where she lived. It was inevitable, if she’s honest with herself. 

 

Adora sits down and tries to push away the sense of guilt at having to perform yet another crime. But she’s come this far… and she’s collected so much information. She could easily have Catra sent away, not to mention Scorpia and Lonnie. She could even nab Shadow Weaver, but unless Adora can share more information about her magical abilities she could easily slip through the DUMP’s fingers. Besides...Adora needs Weaver to teach HER how to avoid being sent to the House of Darkness before Adora sends Weaver there.

 

_ I use magic illegally. I hurt people. I am assisting drug dealers and criminals almost on a daily basis!  _ Gods, maybe she deserves to be sent to the House right alongside Shadow Weaver…

 

She collapses back into bed and buries her face in her pillow. 

 

She allows herself to miss Glimmer for 10 minutes, then she forces herself to get up and carry on with her day.

\---

 

She has another training session with Shadow Weaver. She’s slowly gaining more control of herself. Of She-Ra. It’s exhausting. She’s tired all the time. But she keeps going because that’s all she knows how to do. And because she’s afraid that if she doesn’t, she’ll lose herself. Better to be tired than to be mad.

 

\---

It’s the day of her special mission with Catra and Adora’s at the gym with Bow, trying to get out of her own head for a bit.

 

She’s telling him something funny that Catra said and he’s smiling and nodding along. She’s doing some lifts that use her back muscles, pushing up, her forehead beaded with sweat. There’s a sinking feeling in her chest but she forces it away, focuses on the here and now. And then the lights flicker.

 

She’s not at the gym anymore. She’s holding a young woman up by the collar with one hand, the other holding her sword. Blue pulsing light flashes. The desire to sink the blade into soft flesh is unrelenting and merciless--

 

Her hands feel like static. Her breath comes too fast. She stands up from the weight machine, almost tripping on her way off.

 

Bow stands up, alarm written all over his face. She doesn’t have time for him. She bolts to the bathrooms. 

 

She bursts into a stall, her heart hammering a thousand miles a minute, threatening to force its way right out of her rib cage. Her shaking hands take three tries before she manages to slide the lock home. She collapses onto the tiled floor, chest rattling with each breath, vision tunneling, hands feeling like tv static. It’s hot. It’s too hot. It’s so hot. She’s sweating buckets and it had nothing to do with the work out she just ran from. She manages to pull her top off, relieved at the sensation of cold air kissing her soaked chest. She’s dying. She’s having a heart attack. She barely has control of her motor functions. Her jaw is wired shut. 

Through the haze she sees Bow’s shoes and ankles underneath the partition door. She thinks he might knock. She doesn’t answer. She can’t. She wouldn’t open the door even if she could. She can’t have him see her like this. 

 

Adora isn’t sure how much time passes. A few minutes, maybe? Bow’s shoes are still there. She inhales slowly, exhales. Pushes herself onto shaky legs. Picks up her sweaty shirt and forces it back onto her torso. Steps out of the stall.

 

**_“OK?”_ ** Bow signs, his brows knit together in concern.

 

“Fine.” She signs back, pushing past him. She glimpses herself in the mirror. Her hair is disheveled and her cheeks are red. There are tear tracks down her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she was crying. She desperately wipes them away with the heel of her hand.

Bow gently grabs her shoulders. Her heart startles, she wants to pull away but she’s just too tired.

 

**_“Not OK.”_ ** He signs.

 

**_“Fine!”_ ** She insists, smiling. 

 

**_“Please.”_ **

 

**_“Really. I’m fine. Nothing, okay? It was nothing.”_ **

 

She can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t believe her, but before he gets the chance to press her further she pushes past him. 

 

She manages a few more shaky reps at a leg machine before feigning exhaustion (it’s not hard. She feels absolutely wiped). 

 

**_“Whew! Good workout! Same time next week?”_ ** She doesn’t wait for Bow’s response before she grabs her things and leaves. She loves him and she hates lying, but right now...she doesn’t have the energy or the emotional capacity to sit down and hash out fears she should’ve gotten over ages ago. She can’t have him see her weakness. So she leaves.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience and for your comments <3 blame any typos on @lexacoon because she was supposed to beta read this for me and never did v_v


	17. Chapter 17

By the time she arrives at her apartment building the sweat has cooled on her skin. She considers taking the stairs up like usual, but suddenly her legs shake so violently she almost falls down. Elevator it is.

 

She steps out of the elevator and fishes in her pocket for her keys, ready to take a cold shower and collapse into a fetal position in bed. Or at least, that was the plan.

 

“Hey, Adora.” Catra is leaning against the wall opposite the door to her apartment. A thrill runs through her. The former exhaustion and frustration overwhelmed by a wave of joy.

 

**_“Hi! What’re you doing here?”_ ** She signs, keys still in one hand. She’s grinning like a maniac but she can’t make herself stop.

 

**_“Shadow Weaver was getting on my nerves.”_ ** Catra shrugs, twirling a ring of keys around one finger.  **_“Plus we have that thing tonight.”_ ** She’s wearing fingerless gloves and a denim jacket covered in spikes. There are patches of a rainbow flag, skulls, balls of fire...one is just a middle finger.

 

**_“That thing…”_ ** tonight? Oh, right! She feels a sudden stab of guilt. Shadow Weaver doesn’t trust Catra to get this job done on her own so she’s sending Adora, too. 

 

**_“Why didn’t you go to the Alibi?”_ ** She asks as she slides the key into its lock. Catra shrugs once more.

 

**_“It’s only 3PM. Too early for a drink.”_ ** Adora hardly thinks that the time of day has ever stopped Catra from drinking before, but it’s an issue she doesn’t press. 

 

Catra follows her inside and it makes her happier than it should, to see how comfortable she is here in Adora’s home. 

 

**_“Can I get you anything?”_ ** But even as she’s asking Catra’s already opening the fridge. Adora just smiles to herself and shakes her head. 

 

Catra turns around. She’s leaning against Adora’s counter. Her yellow-blue eyes track up and down, taking in Adora’s gym clothes and the bag that’s still resting on one shoulder.

 

**_“How much can you bench?”_ ** Catra asks with one hand, the other holding a beer bottle. So much for it being too early to drink.

 

**_“260.”_ **

 

Catra almost spits out her drink. She leans over, coughing. Adora takes a step towards her, concerned, but Catra holds a hand out.

 

**_“TWO? SIXTY?”_ **

 

**_“Yeah?”_ **

 

**_“Mother of Gods. You really are a beefcake.”_ **

 

**_“Thank you?”_ ** She honestly has no idea what a beefcake is but it sounds disgusting. But Catra did frame is as a compliment so?

 

If Catra senses Adora's confusion she doesn't comment on it. Instead she's looking at Adora through hooded lids, biting her bottom lip before her tongue swipes over it like she's chewing over a particularly interesting piece of information. It sends a spark straight between Adora's legs.

 

**_"You could give Scorpia a run for her money."_ **

 

**_"Oh, does she run in marathons?"_ ** It’s a betting thing, maybe?

 

Catra laughs and it's so different from how Layla and the others treated her. She wants to push Catra against a wall and lick her bottom lip, she wants to run her fingers up her sides and stroke the fur on her chest--

 

**_“Hey, I wanted to tell you, I spoke with Rogelio and he says that Diamond and Spade are some low-brow drifters. They probably got paid in cash and didn’t ask any questions. And going after them might just alert their employer that we’re onto them.”_ **

 

**_“Drifters…? I mean, maybe? I’m still trying to get their files but I’m having  a hard time. My friend says that there’s some jurisdictional issue.”_ ** She drops her bag and takes off her shoes, finally going over to the kitchen to sit on a stool. 

 

**_“We can try to ask Rattlor about it when we go to the TaiPan for that big party.”_ **

 

Adora’s relieved. She wasn’t sure that Catra was still going to take her after all of this drama between them. 

 

**_“In the meantime,”_ ** Catra continues, **_“we have other avenues to pursue.”_ **

 

**_"Right."_ ** Adora nods. Her earlier exhaustion is beginning to creep back.  **_"Hey, I really need a shower. I probably smell gross."_ ** Catra doesn't look at her, but her nose noticeably twitches. Many hybrids have sensitive noses. She probably thinks that Adora REEKS.

 

**_"You smell fine, actually. Like yourself. But also--"_ ** She looks at her for a moment. 

 

**_"Also what?"_ **

 

**_"Panic."_ ** Oh no. NO. She's not okay with Bow knowing about her panic attack, she's DEFINITELY not ok with Catra knowing.

 

**_"I'm fine."_ ** She states as firmly as she can, commanding her muscles to stop shaking. It sorta works. 

 

Catra, at least, doesn't make a big deal about it. She throws her head back and downs the rest of her bottle. She tosses it into the recycle, then turns to Adora.

 

**_"Let's spar."_ **

 

**_"You… you wanna spar? Here?"_ ** There isn't really enough floor space. maybe if they moved some furniture around...

 

**_“Unless you can think of someplace better.”_ ** Catra asks, one sharp eyebrow lifted.

 

**_“I--there’s--my building has a gym on the bottom floor.”_ **

 

**_“Let’s go, then.”_ ** Catra’s turned towards the exit before Adora can get a word out. She follows.

 

The gym isn’t much. A couple of machines, a few weights. But it’s got a padded floor and room, and that’s all that they need.

 

Catra stands opposite of Adora. She shucks off her jacket in one fluid motion, like she’s a pro wrestler getting ready for a match. Gods, she’s gorgeous. She peels off her fingerless gloves, and then pulls out a strip of wrist wraps from one pocket. Her biceps flex as she winds the cloth around her knuckles. She’s not bulky like Adora is, but she's lean. There must be a lot of power compressed into those muscles. Adora’s about to find out for certain.

 

**_“I don’t know about this...I’m really wiped from my workout…”_ **

 

**_“What? Scared you can’t beat me?”_ ** Catra goads, holding her arms out in a ‘come at me’ gesture.

 

**_“No it’s not that--”_ ** Catra swipes out at her before she finishes and Adora just barely manages to dodge out of the way.

 

“Hey!” She yelps out loud. Catra isn’t listening. Her tail lashes back and forth, she balances on the balls of her feet, one hand curled into a fist and the other open and held out in front of her. She looks feral...the sight sends a thrill racing through Adora.

 

Catra leaps again and Adora moves to avoid her. She also manages to slam her elbow on Catra’s back and sends her to the floor. But she’s not down for long. She somersaults, bouncing back up and springing at Adora once more. 

 

Adora barely manages to block a series of lightning fast rabbit punches, backing up slowly at the onslaught. Catra swings a kick at her. She manages a block but it leaves her wrist ringing, and consequently she’s too slow to fend off the punch to her gut. 

 

Catra is a hurricane. She’s a torrential downpour of fists, and Adora is increasingly feeling like a weakening rooftop. 

 

She’s fast. Too fast. Adora hasn’t managed to return any hits. She can’t work this way, with Catra darting in and out. She needs her to get in close.

 

Just as she’s thinking that Catra manages to hook an ankle around Adora’s and send her toppling to the floor. 

 

**_“Stop, stop.”_ ** She signs from the padded ground, muscles trembling.

 

**_“Where’s your fire, hot stuff?”_ ** Catra signs, but there’s a cruel sneer on her face. **_“You’d think during one of your lessons Shadow Weaver would’ve bothered to teach you how to defend yourself.”_ **

 

**_“You know about those…?”_ ** It shouldn’t matter whether or not Catra knows about her meetings with Shadow Weaver. So why does she feel guilty?

 

**_“I’m not blind, Adora. I’ve seen you sneaking out of the warehouse like a cheater trying to slip out of his girlfriend’s place before her husband gets home. Get up. Get up and fight me.”_ ** She kicks Adora’s leg. It doesn’t really hurt. It’s more like a tap.

 

**_“No.”_ ** She’s tired. More than that. She’s absolutely exhausted. Where does Catra find this energy to be so mad at her?

 

**_“Fight me.”_ ** Catra snarls, and kicks her again. Harder this time. She winces. 

 

**_“No.”_ **

 

**_“FIGHT ME!”_ ** She demands, and this time when she goes to kick Adora doesn’t let her get away with it. She grapples her shin, throwing Catra off balance and sending her to the ground. Before Catra has a chance to collect herself Adora is on her. She grabs Catra’s shoulder to flip her over.

 

Adora was right. 

Catra is strong.

 

But Adora’s stronger.

She presses Catra down into the mat, capturing her wrists and pinning them at the small of her back. 

 

“Calm down,” she grunts through gritted teeth. 

 

“******* ***** ***!” The only reason that Adora even knows Catra is speaking is because she can feel the vibrations where their chests meet. Catra wiggles but it only serves to grind her ass up into Adora’s hips. 

 

“I’m sorry you’re so mad but it’s not my f--” Catra manages to free one arm and CRACKs it against Adora’s jaw, the pain a sudden shocking white. She falls back on her ass. Adora’s still blinking the distortion from her eyes when Catra slams down on top of her. 

 

“*** ******** better than me!” Her teeth flash, lips pulled up, a fleck of spittle hitting Adora’s cheek. 

 

She tries to push Catra off of her. Catra swipes out with her claws and slashes Adora’s wrist, throwing it back to the mat.

 

Adora tries to pivot her hips to slip out from under, but Catra jams a thigh between Adora's legs and effectively pins her in place. Adora tries to push at Catra's shoulders, actually getting far enough to lift her up before she lashes out again and pushes Adora's arms away. Before Adora can resist Catra grabs her arms and holds them over her head. She tries to move them but Catra's claws start to dig into her skin.

 

"**** ****** **** *******." Catra's chest rumbles. It's probably not supposed to feel good. But it does.

 

But Catra wants a fight, so Adora has to give it to her.

 

Adora tries to buck her hips but it only serves to grind Catra's thigh between her legs. It sends a rush of pleasure up her spine. She should be afraid. She watched Catra practically disembowel a woman not that long ago. She should be terrified. She should be fighting for her life. She shouldn't be...

 

She has to fight. She doesn't want to fight. 

 

"Catra." She says out loud. She feels her throat click. She needs something to drink. There’s a tall drink of water right in front of--no, bad Adora.

 

Something changes on Catra's face. The sharp glint in her eyes seems to soften. Her grip relaxes fractionally. 

 

For a moment they're not fighting. For a moment they're not lying on a gross mat in a sweaty gym. For a moment they're together in a soft bed, Adora stretched out beneath Catra, gazing up at her. There's softness in her yellow blue eyes. A tenderness that's only paralleled by the gentle tide in Adora's chest. She feels safe, and wanted, and nervous and excited--

 

Then Catra grabs the front of Adora’s shirt and slams her against the floor. Oof. Maybe the exhaustion is making Adora hallucinate.

 

“You can’t even win a fight against me.” She says it slowly, exaggerates her syllables so that Adora can read her lips.

 

“You don’t deserve to be her favorite.” She slams Adora against the mat.

 

“Stop,” she gasps, stars dancing at the edges of her vision. “Stop, please.” Catra pauses. She narrows her eyes like she's trying to decide if this is a trick. It's not. Adora was out of fight when this whole affair began. Catra was always going to win. 

 

Maybe part of her realizes that, because she releases her hold. She sits back, one knee still pressing right against the sensitive spot between Adora's legs. If only there wasn't fabric separating them. If only it was Catra's hand instead of her knee. If only she wasn't going to put Catra in prison. If only Catra weren't ready to rip her head off.

 

**_"Are...are you okay?"_ ** oh NOW she asks?

 

**_"You hit hard."_ ** Adora signs in return, because even after all of that she's still not mad at Catra, not really. 

 

**_"Your arm."_ ** She looks over and--huh. There are red streaks of blood beading from the cuts Catra made in her skin. 

 

"Huh." Adora grunts. 

 

**_"Oops. We should go fix you up."_ ** She crawls off of her and the loss of pressure between her legs is both a relief and a disappointment.

 

Adora tries to situate her muscles beneath her but as soon as she puts pressure on them they shake so badly she almost collapses on the mat.

 

She hates asking for help. She hates when anyone sees her being weak, being unable to support herself. She could die from the embarrassment of it. At least...that's usually the case.

 

**_"Can you…"_ **

 

**_"Yeah."_ ** She doesn't even have to finish making her request. Catra reaches down and grabs her wrist (the good one) and tugs her onto shaky legs.

 

They head back upstairs, weary and smelling of sweat, but supporting each other and if maybe not happy, at least not jumping at each other's throats any more. 

 

\---

 

**_"I'm...going to go shower."_ ** Adora signs as soon as they’re past the threshold.

 

**_"Let me patch your arm, after."_ ** Adora considers declining the request. Then she realizes that Catra never apologizes with words. She apologizes with actions. This is Catra saying sorry. Adora wants to accept the apology. She wants them to be okay. She wants her world to be back in alignment.

 

**_"Yeah, okay."_ ** She nods.

 

Catra gives her a thumbs up and then goes to rifle through the fridge, possibly for another beer. Adora doesn’t stick around to see.

 

Maybe she should be worried about Catra going through her things, but...she's not. Besides, all of the incriminating evidence is in a lockbox hidden under her bed. If Catra stays in the kitchen/living room area it should be fine.

 

She closes and locks her bedroom door just to be safe.

\---

In the shower her mind wanders. Maybe because she's tired her filters are impaired, her defenses low. Because she knows she shouldn't be thinking about this, especially not when Catra is literally in the next room over but it's just-- 

 

She's been wound so tight, and so tired, and frankly since she's been fighting with Catra, lonely. And Catra is… she shows up in a denim jacket and low cut form fitting top and her hair tousled and wild and her face flushed (her freckles beautifully contrasted with the red of her glowing cheeks), and that long slender neck and the hint of soft fur trailing down her chest, the flash of her yellow/blue eyes, the way she tilts her head so her eyes are hooded and her gaze bores right into Adora and the way her lips pull up into a smirk and then reveal the sharp white points of her teeth, how sometimes her tongue peeks through and licks her canines and lower lip.

 

Her hand slides between her legs. She imagines it's Catra she's touching, not herself. She rolls the pad of her index over the nub of her clit. Pleasure rolls through her. She thinks about Catra breathing in her ear, her breath stutter-shaking against Adora with moans and gasps. She thinks about how closely they were pressed together on the gym mat.

 

She gathers slick from her entrance and spreads it along her labia. When she nudges her clit again the rush of feeling swells from her legs through her chest. She gasps at the shock of it--and then immediately bites down on her own wrist to stifle the noise.

 

But she can’t stop now. The need has become this demanding, dominating, addictive thing and each stroke of her finger is like flint against steel sending sparks of pleasure rioting through her. She bites down on her wrist, whimpers against it, and pretends that it’s Catra’s throat. Adora leans against the tile, water sluicing down her back, her hand working with increasing vigor. She pictures lying in bed, clothes half undone, and Catra stripped naked before her. The dark line of fur that trails down her chest and stomach is soft to Adora’s touch. Her fingers would trace along the zig zags of brown stripes that curl over her shoulders and along her chest. She’d reach to touch one perfect nipple, rolling it between index and thumb until it hardened and Catra’s chest expanded with a gasp. 

 

She would stroke the fur on her stomach, she would trace the lines of her hips with her lips. She imagines kissing down, down. She notices the way the thin layer of her fur gets lighter between her legs. She kisses the dappled stripes there, she marvels at the way the fur thins to give way to pink lips. Or would her fur stay the same hue the whole way down? Adora longs to know. She aches to explore every single inch of Catra's body.

 

She imagines dipping her tongue down. Not where Catra needs it--not quite yet. She licks along her labia, immediately adjacent to her clit, the edge of her tongue just barely brushing that sensitive spot. She wants to tease her until she begs.

 

But it’s been so long, and she’s been wound so tight, Adora’s rapidly approaching a peak. She sees herself in a new position now, lying back, Catra’s thighs bracketing her face, her own tongue delving deep between Catra’s folds and  _ oh Gods _ and she’s touching herself between her legs  _ Catra _ and she uses her other hand to slowly slip a finger inside of Catra’s clinging heat  _ Don’t stop _ and she laves her tongue against her clit and--

 

The release is so sweet she almost cries. It pulses through her in waves, filling her brain, pure and unadulterated bliss and she feels so good she could die, anyone and anything can happen to her and she’ll be fine. The initial rush is over in moments, but the warmth of the afterglow remains a while longer.

 

And then that fades, and bitter sweet sorrow rushes to fill its place. 

 

That fantasy can never become a reality.

 

\---

 

**_“Good shower?”_ ** Catra asks when Adora comes out of her room, towelling off her hair. 

 

**_“Yeah, it was fine.”_ ** Catra’s yellow-blue eyes bore into her and Adora prays to every god she can think of that she wasn’t loud enough to be heard.

 

**_"You got medical supplies?"_ ** Catra pushes her way past Adora into the bathroom and  _ please tell me the soap covers up the smell of cum.  _ If Catra notices, though, she doesn't say anything. She squats on the tile, claws scraping the porcelain as she opens the cupboard under the sink. 

 

"*****!" she exclaims with a smile, withdrawing the first aid kit.  **_"Sit."_ ** She instructs, pointing at the toilet. Adora does. She holds out her arm. Catra sits on the edge of the tub, kit unfolded in her lap. She reaches for her arm. Adora almost can't believe how gentle she is...her wrists are bony, tendons taut against her skin, scars nicking her knuckles, her palms calloused...but her hands are warm. She moves carefully, gracefully, there's no tremble as she applies antiseptic ointment to the cuts. She wraps bandages carefully around Adora's arm. Her face is so focused, so determined. Adora wants nothing more than to grab it and start kissing her. 

 

**_"Finished."_ ** Catra states with a grin. Adora looks away rapidly, feeling like she's been caught peeping. 

 

**_"Thanks. I...thanks."_ **

 

**_“You ready to go?”_ ** Catra looks at her phone.  **_“It’s almost time.”_ **

 

Honestly no, she’s not ready. She could drop on her feet at any moment. But what choice does she have?

 

**_"I'm exhausted."_ ** She confesses. It's not something she would ever admit to anyone else.

 

**_“We can’t postpone this…”_ ** Catra bites her lip.  **_“Do you want to stay at home?”_ ** More than anything. But she told Shadow Weaver that she was going to do this, and so she is.

 

**_“I can’t.”_ **

 

**_“That’s fine. I’ll do most of the talking. You don’t REALLY need to be there, anyway.”_ **

 

**_“Yeah… Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”_ **

 

Exhausted but determined, Adora follows Catra out of her apartment.

 

\---

 

The black pick up they used before must be unavailable because Catra leads her through the city via public transit. 

 

Adora doesn't realize she's fallen asleep on the subway until a sudden pressure on her shoulder jerks her awake.

 

**_"C'mon."_ ** Catra motions, squeezing Adora's shoulder gently once more before taking off. Adora groggily stumbles after.

 

They pick up a briefcase from the Alibi. Apparently it's lead lined, which keeps it safe from being detected by the DUMP. 

 

Then it's another subway ride to their drop location. Adora stands and holds onto a pole in an attempt to keep herself awake. it half works. When she starts to nod off she begins to fall forward and jerks herself awake. 

 

She glances at her phone. It's barely 21.00. 

 

**_"You gonna be okay?"_ ** Catra places a gentle hand on Adora's wrist.

 

**_"Yeah. Let's just get this over with. How much further away is it?"_ **

 

**_"Another 20 minutes."_ ** 20 minutes. okay. She can do this.

 

She jerks awake 20 minutes later.

 

**_"You fell asleep on your feet. I've never seen that before. That's actually incredible."_ ** Catra grins, and Adora wants to elbow her in the ribs but she's too tired. 

 

They walk a ways and it helps to wake Adora up a little. They end up at the docks by the lake. It's poorly lit and even more poorly monitored which makes it a hotbed for criminal activity. That's probably why they're here. Adora makes a mental note to tell Angella to see what the city can do about getting more patrols to roll by. 

 

Catra walks down to the end of a dock and Adora follows. A distant part of her mind thinks that she would follow Catra anywhere.

 

She sits with her legs hanging off the edge of the dock, the briefcase propped up beside her. Adora settles down next to her. 

 

They sit together, staring out over the water. Distant lights twinkle at them from the other side of the lake. 

 

**_“What time are we meeting them?”_ ** Adora asks.

 

**_“They should be here in...twenty minutes.”_ **

 

**_“So you CAN be on time,”_ ** Adora teases. Catra is habitually late to every meeting they have together.

 

**_“I’m always on time for business.”_ ** She shrugs.

 

**_“Oh, so I’m not business?”_ ** Because Catra’s never not been late to a meeting with Adora. Catra glances at her out of the corner of her eye.

 

**_“No.”_ ** Her honesty prompts a rush of warmth in Adora’s chest.

 

Catra’s ears prick and she turns her head. Adora follows her gaze back towards the shore, but it’s just a pair of fae walking arm in arm with their heads pressed together, giggling. They’re cute together. 

 

**_“You ever been in love before?”_ ** Adora asks, because she’s she’s exhausted and has no filter and is pining hard.

 

**_“Love?”_ ** Catra scoffs.  **_“Love is bullshit. It’s a bunch of chemicals in your brain.”_ **

 

**_“Our entire makeup is composed of chemicals. We’re just combinations of protein and water. Our brain floats in a liquid vat in our skulls. It’s all about perception. If it feels real...it’s real.”_ ** Glimmer sat down and explained that to her once after she found Adora crying on the kitchen floor after her 7th grade science teacher told her everything they think and feel is fake. Her heart aches. 

 

**_“Yeah? How many times have you been in love, then?”_ ** Catra snipes. 

 

**_“There was a girl in college, but...I don’t… it wasn’t really love. It was more like...mutual appreciation.”_ **

 

**_“What was her name?”_ **

 

**_“Skylar.”_ **

 

**_“What about that other girl?”_ **

 

Adora turns her head, confused. What other girl? She’s only ever dated one person. Then there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, cold dread jumping up her spine--

 

**_“What other girl?”_ ** she asks, sharp.

 

**_“The one with the pink hair, Glitter, or Shimmer, I know you’ve mentioned her before--”_ ** No. She hasn’t. She can barely even say Glimmer’s name, let alone describe her or their relationship. 

 

**_“Where did you hear that name?”_ ** Adora asks, sitting up now, towering over Catra. Catra’s ears pin back, her tail pulls in and she looks from side to side. Adora is hardly paying attention. All she knows is this cold rage.

 

**_“I don’t--”_ ** She perks up, right as Adora feels the vibrations through the wooden dock. Two dark figures are approaching from the shore. It’s hard to make out their faces because of how the lights on the dock are shining right at their backs. 

 

She scrambles to her feet, and it’s something of an awkward affair, lots of rotating limbs and swinging of momentum. Conversely when Catra stands it’s in one smooth, graceful movement, like she’s floated up rather than pushed herself.  _ Stop admiring her physique when you’re mad at her _ , Adora commands herself. But she’s weak. Catra makes her weak.

 

“**** ****** ******,” Catra says. Adora’s close enough to her that she can feel the low rumbling of her voice as she speaks. 

 

One of the figures is carrying something. A briefcase? She squints, but visibility is poor. She should’ve brought a flashlight. Or maybe she could summon her sword? It glows, right? Without pausing to consider the ramifications of using magic in front of strangers, Adora flexes the muscles to call the blade. Sparks jump to her hand, illuminating just enough of the dock for her to see the faces of the approaching figures.

 

They’re both wearing dark suits and masks. The masks cover most of their faces and are shaped to look like dragons. There’s a sense of foreboding filling her, now. She looks down at notices their ties--one is patterned with dozens of tiny spades.

 

The other with diamonds.

 

“Catra look out--!” She moves to push Catra behind her and step forward, blade materializing in her hand--something hits her right in the neck. One of the two lizardfolk has a hand raised, wrapped around some sort of gun-like object. That’s all she notices before her vision blurs.

 

_ Please, Gods, don’t let them take Catra. _

 

Then everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments, they give me that delicious rush of serotonin :D Please leave more if you are able, they keep me nourished.


	18. Chapter 18

“CATRA!” She bolts upright in bed, heart racing, breath tight. The dock--the lizardfolk--where is she?

 

**_“Calm down, you’re safe now.”_ ** Shadow Weaver? What’s she doing--no, that’s not right. What’s ADORA doing here? Because she’s definitely not at the docks. The room she’s in is filled with dim red light. Sinister looking medical equipment glints in the background. The room is...warm. The lights are soft. The ache in her wrists and ankles and back melts away.

 

The sharp panic is also deteriorating. Unspooling. She exhales deeply, her heart settling. She subconsciously rubs at her wrists.

 

**_"Can you say ‘stop’?"_ ** ...why? She’s supposed to be doing something. There was something she needed to..something… 

 

**_“Focus. Say ‘stop’.”_ **

 

"Stop." 

 

**_"Ssst. Feel how your tongue touches the spot immediately behind your teeth along the roof of your mouth. T. Exhale as you pull your tongue away. T._ ** " She tries it.

 

"Catra." 

 

**_"No, dear. You said ‘Cash-ra.’ Try to get the t. If you can say stop, you can say Catra's name correctly."_ **

 

Catra, Catra, Catra. Where is she? For that matter, where is Adora? But then...does it matter? She feels light. No, that’s not quite right. Froggy? Foggy. Foggy and light. Can you be foggy and light at the same time? Her thoughts are rolling away like rain on a windowpane. She fights it. There’s something she needs to do. Something she needs to know. Something...important. She has to find… Find Catra...

 

**_"Where she?"_ **

 

**_"Say it out loud."_ **

 

“Where is she?”

 

**_“No. Say Catra’s name out loud.”_ **

 

“Catra.”

 

“ **_Hm. I suppose it’s useless to try to improve your speech when you’re in this condition._ ** ” What condition?

 

**_“I need home. Feed cat.”_ ** She pauses a moment, considering, then laughs.  **_“Wait I don’t like--don’t HAVE cat._ ** ”

 

**_“Yes, dear. I know.”_ **

 

**_“Because my apartment? You know? You know where I live!”_ ** Somewhere deep in her brain she feels like she shouldn’t be saying these things but then, does it really matter? She feels so light. Foggy. Can you be light and foggy at the same...deja vu. She rubs at her wrists. 

 

**_“I have delivered a message to your apartment, yes. But that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”_ **

 

**_“My feet are tied!”_ ** She exclaims at the realization. They’re held down by metal circles. Hm. She tugs at her foot, but it’s stuck. Her ankle looks red. She thinks maybe it’s supposed to hurt but it doesn’t? She’s on a table. A silver table. It’s hard beneath her ass, but it’s warm. She notices loops on the sides. Are those for holding people down? Her wrists are a little red. They’re okay now, though. She’s not tied down. She’s sitting up. She’s talking. She’s on a silver table with restraints.

 

**_“Am I supposed to be dead?”_ ** She wonders. She feels light. Foggy. At the same time. Do dead bodies often struggle? Is that why there are locks?

 

**_“I need you to tell me what happened.”_ **

 

**_“Oh, I don’t know, I woke up here.”_ **

 

**_“Before you woke up. Do you remember the dock?”_ **

 

**_“Yes, there were these two lizardfolk. I didn’t notice until they hit me in the neck with something. A dart? Wait. Where’s Catra?”_ ** She squints.  **_“Are you a lizardfolk?”_ **

 

**_“No. I am not a lizardfolk.”_ **

 

Adora nods, and it feels good, so she starts to rock her whole body back and forth. At least her torso. Her legs are still flat on the table. If she stretches, can she touch her toes? That’s a yoga pose. Downward dog? No. Child's pose? No. There’s a gentle touch on her shoulder; she doesn’t even flinch. 

 

**_“Catra is safe. Can you tell me what the lizardfolk looked like?”_ **

 

**_“No.”_ ** She is REALLY thirsty. Kind of hungry, too, for that matter. Where are her shoes? Her feet are cold.

 

**_“Why not?”_ **

 

**_“Why not what?”_ **

 

**_“Why can’t you tell me what the lizardfolk from the dock looked like?”_ **

 

**_“They had masks on. Dragon masks. And these dark suits. Very formal looking. I thought we were friends with the lizardfolk?”_ **

 

**_“We’re allies with Rattlor’s Snakemen. There are many lizardfolk who are not aligned with the Snakemen. Can you tell me anything else?”_ **

 

**_“I can tell you a lot. Like Catra has an eyebrow piercing and also a scar through her eye and one of her eyes is yellow and the other is blue and that trait is called heterochromia and she is really good at smelling things--I can also tell you how many stripes she has! Wait. No, I can’t. I haven’t been able to get close enough. Maybe 32? Seems like a good number. I’ll have to look again.”_ **

 

**_“Why are you so concerned with Catra?”_ ** She asks. 

 

**_“I like her...and...well. I shouldn’t tell you.”_ ** She laughs. 

 

**_“We’re all friends here. You can trust me with your secrets.”_ **

 

**_“Mmm...I dunno…”_ ** Catra says that Shadow Weaver is mean to her.

 

**_“Have I ever done anything to hurt you?”_ ** Good point. She’s done nothing but help Adora.

 

**_"Okay."_ ** She looks to the left and right, like someone might be watching them. She leans in and hunches her shoulders to hide her hand shapes.

 

**_"I think I'm falling in love with her."_ **   She laughs, because, who would've thought!  **_"A hybrid!"_ ** She exclaims. Unbelievable. If only her coworkers could see her now.

 

Shadow Weaver leans away from her. Her face is expressionless. No, not her face. Her mask. It's like there's absolutely no inflection, no emotion to her voice. Her hands. 

 

**_" Did Catra tell you anything about the people who took the briefcase?”_ **

 

**_“Did the snake guys take the briefcase? Oh gosh. Shadow Weaver’s gonna kill us...hey! Are you gonna kill us?”_ **

 

**_“Not if you tell me the truth.”_ **

 

She blinks slowly.

 

**_“Why would I lie?”_ ** She’s having a hard enough time remembering the truth right now. The thought should scare her, but it doesn’t. The fear floats above her like an untethered balloon. It doesn’t even touch her.

 

**_“I need you to tell me about the lizardfolk that you saw on the dock.”_ ** Shadow Weaver pinches her forehead which seems silly because she’s wearing a mask.

 

**_“They were wearing masks.”_ ** Adora notes. **_“Dragon masks. One had long white whiskers. The other little golden curls. Black and red. Oh! And ties on, with diamonds and spades. That’s how I knew something was wrong.”_ **

 

**_“Did you have any prior communication with these two individuals before seeing them on that dock?”_ **

 

**_“Nope.”_ ** Not for lack of trying, though. She tries to swing her legs over the edge of the table-bed.  **_“My feet are stuck!”_ ** When did that happen?

 

**_“Do you know what happened to the briefcase I gave to Catra?”_ **

 

**_“Catra has the briefcase.”_ **

 

**_“Catra does not have the briefcase.”_ **

 

**_“Oh. Where is it? I look.”_ ** She tries to swing her legs over the edge of the--hey. They’re stuck.  **_“My feet.”_ **

 

Shadow Weaver waves her hand and the locks slide back. Adora’s ankles are a deep red and blue. Whoa. Cool colors. 

 

**_“So. You arrived at the docks with Catra and two lizardfolk approached you. They were wearing masks and had ties with diamonds and spades. One of them used a dart gun on you, and you blacked out. You did not have any prior discussion with Catra regarding meeting these two individuals. You did not plan to steal the briefcase or obstruct the exchange in any way. To your knowledge, Catra did not plan to steal the spell or obstruct the sale. Is this correct?”_ **

 

**_“Yep. They got me good, chief.”_ ** She tries to stand up though her legs shake like jello. This room is creepy.  **_“Live here? You?”_ ** She asks Shadow Weaver.  **_“Very spooky. You don’t even need decorate for Devil’s Night.”_ ** There’s a big red crystal in the center of the room. Light refracts through it and hits the walls. There’s a spell circle drawn in chalk around it. The room is decorated with an assortment of other curios like books, papers, vials, candles, herbs, spell components… It smells like an ozone. Light a thunderstorm.

 

**_“I know that you think Catra is your friend.”_ ** Shadow Weaver’s hand movements redirect Adora’s attention. **_“Catra is not your friend. Falling in love with her is dangerous. She will break your heart.”_ **

 

**_“You said that. She’s... never ...she's nice to me. She makes me feel safe.”_ **

 

**_“She is exceptionally talented at manipulating people to her will. Ask her where she learned to sign. Ask her about Scorpia.”_ **

 

“ **_Scorpia?”_ **

 

**_“Scorpia is an example of what happens to people who love Catra. If you get too close to her flame, you will be burned.”_ **

 

**_“I wear fireproof gloves.”_ ** She replies solemnly. 

 

Shadow Weaver doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, she turns her back and moves to a desk. Adora gazes around the room. She’s clearly been dismissed; she can leave now. But where’s the door? Suddenly, a green light filters into the room as a panel pulls up to reveal a hallway. A door! More importantly, there’s someone standing in the door.

 

“Catra!” She declares in delight. Her leg twinges, but she doesn’t let it stop her from throwing herself into Catra’s arms.

 

“*** *******!” Suddenly they’re horizontal on the floor. Adora’s on top of Catra, grinning.

 

**_“You’re like a goddamn semi-truck.”_ ** Catra complains from where she lies on her back.  **_“Ow.”_ **

 

**_“You’re okay._ ** ” Adora grins.

 

**_“I’m okay? You’re the one who--”_ ** She looks over Adora’s shoulder and her eyes narrow. 

 

**_“I appreciate you.”_ ** Adora finishes for her. 

 

**_“No--help me up.”_ ** She places her palms on the floor so she can get off of her knees and position herself on her feet. She pushes up, and--her ankles don’t hold. She hits the marble floor with her elbows. Hard.

 

“Whoops.” She laughs. 

 

Catra mutters something that looks an awful lot like ‘shit’. She wiggles out from underneath Adora and springs to her feet. Like a rubber band. Or a frog. Rough hands grab her shoulders and pull her up. It’s easier to support herself once she’s standing. 

 

“***** ****** ****** ***.... **** ****! *******! ******? …..******.... **. *****. ****** ****** ****** ***.” Catra’s talking to herself. Or maybe she’s having a conversation. Adora doesn’t bother to try to follow. 

 

“Catra.” She says, because she likes the way the name feels in her mouth. She doesn’t usually prefer speaking over signing but there’s something about her name. Catra. Catra. Catra. 

 

It’s not until Catra tells her to hush that she realizes she’s saying it out loud. Oops. 

 

**_“Come on.”_ **

 

**_“Where?”_ **

 

**_“Out of here.”_ ** Catra sticks close to Adora’s side. She’s shaky for the first few steps and instinctively grabs at Catra’s bicep to balance herself. She’s okay getting down the hallway after that.

 

**_“Hey, hey.”_ ** Adora waves, and Catra’s yellow-blue eyes turn to focus on her. **_“How many stripes you?”_ ** Catra’s brow furrows and the corners of her mouth turn up in a sort-of smile.

 

**_“You want to know how many stripes I have?”_ **

 

**_“I guess 32. Need be sure. Need to check.”_ **

 

**_“Shit. I’m not sure. I guess I’ll have to count.”_ ** Catra laughs. ****

 

**_“Beautiful when laugh. You laugh.”_ **

 

**_“You’re gay. And super stoned. Or is it high? I forget what exactly that crap she uses does…”_ **

  
Her ankles are starting to hurt, but they support her, even as they climb up the stairs. They get to a door and Catra punches in a code. Adora's chatting almost the entire time but she forgets what she's talking about. She forgets most of their journey, too. They go through a warehouse. More stairs. It's dark,then light, then dark again. 

 

Then she's in a bed. Catra's bed. It smells like her. She stretches out on the bed but startles when something touches her ankle. 

 

**_"Hey."_ ** She notices Catra's rolling up her pant leg.  **_"My shoes are gone."_ **

 

**_"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed."_ ** Is she being sarcastic? Adora squints at her. The corners of Catra's lips curl up. 

 

Catra grabs a tube of something and squirts a weird liquid onto her hands. She puts it on Adora's skin. She jumps and pulls her ankles away.

 

"Cold!" She barks. 

 

**_"You big baby."_ ** She pulls her hands away and rubs them together.

 

"Hey. How did we get here?" Adora's starting to feel a little clearer. Thoughts are starting to stick again. 

 

**_"We walked up the stairs."_ ** That's...true. She's not quite clear enough to question that answer.

 

**_"Where's the briefcase?"_ **

 

**_"I don't know."_ **

 

**_"Shadow Weaver asked me a lot of questions about the briefcase...and the lizards….lizardfolk. I used to think that lizardmen were kinda gross. Well, more than them. Hybrids. I don't know why though I never really questioned it--hey. That feels nice."_ ** Catra's hands are rubbing at the colorful anklet of bruises that Adora is sporting.  **_"It feels nice when you touch me,_ ** " she sighs, leans back against the pillows. 

 

Catra looks up at her through hooded eyes, but she can't say anything because her hands are occupied. Adora smiles at her.  **_"Usually I hate it when people touch me. But not you."_ **

 

**_"You thought hybrids were gross?"_ ** There’s something to Catra’s voice--her signs, really. An edge. 

 

**_"I was dumb.”_ ** Adora concedes.  **_“I dinno better… you...you’re good. Scorp’s good.”_ **

 

Catra narrows her eyes.

 

**_"We will revisit this conversation when you’re sober. Give me your other leg."_ ** Catra signs, grabbing for her other ankle. Adora lets her take it with out issue. 

 

**_"Where are my shoes?"_ ** She wonders.  **_"And socks. Why are my ankles that color?"_ ** But Catra is still busy rubbing her skin. 

 

“Catra. Catra. Caaattt...raaaaaah…. Catra?” She switches to signs.  **_“What are you putting on my ankles?”_ **

 

**_“Arnica. It should help with the pain and reduce the swelling.”_ **

 

“Catra.”

 

Catra looks at her expectantly.

 

**_“Shadow Weaver says I say your name wrong.”_ **

 

**_“Shadow Weaver’s full of shit.”_ **

 

**_“She says it’s C-A-T-R-A, not C-A-S-H-R-A.”_ **

 

**_“Tell her she can suck my dick. You say my name right. Everyone else says it wrong.”_ **

 

**_“Really?”_ **

 

**_“Yes.”_ **

 

**_"You hate her…"_ ** Adora remembers back to their spar on the gym mat.  **_"You want to be her favorite."_ **

 

Catra pulls her feet up from the floor and tucks them beneath her. 

 

**_"It's complicated."_ **

 

**_"One of your eyes is purple."_ ** Adora notes suddenly. **_"Around the edges."_ ** She scowls and reaches out to touch it. Catra lets her. 

 

**_"I got hit."_ **

 

**_"Diamond? Spade?"_ **

 

Catra nods. Beneath the fog she feels something hot and biting and fierce.

 

**_“I will hurt them.”_ ** Adora signs sharp and fast, vicious. 

 

**_“It’s minor.”_ ** Catra waves her hand like she’s clearing the air, saying, ‘Nevermind. It’s nothing.’ Except,Catra’s feelings aren’t nothing to her. They never have been.  **_“But they got the briefcase, which is not so minor.”_ **

 

**_“I was...everything was black.”_ **

 

**_“Yeah, they hit you with a dart. Fortunately your big body got in the way and you took my dart, too. I managed to avoid the next ones they tried to get me with.”_ **

 

**_“You’re fast.”_ **

 

**_“Yeah._ **

 

**_“You’re pretty.”_ **

 

**_“I think you said that already.”_ **

 

**_“I’m slow. My ankles are blue.”_ **

 

**_“Yeah, when we got back Shadow Weaver instantly accused me of botching the job on purpose. Figures. Bitch. She took you down to her lair while Scorpia was busy helping me with a cut on my side. It’s been a few hours...I was trying to figure out how to get in when the door opened. Dunno what she did, but I bet it involved strapping you down to her torture table.”_ **

 

**_“Torture?”_ **

 

**_“I’m exaggerating. Wait, no, I’m not. She likes torture. Sadist.”_ **

 

“ **_Just asked me questions.”_ ** Adora responds. It was scary down there, though she wouldn’t call it torture.

 

**_“Well...your ankles didn’t look like that when I last saw you.”_ ** Catra shrugs, but Adora’s moved on. She’s looking at Catra’s bruise. 

 

**_“A-R-N-I-C-A.”_ ** She signs. 

 

**_“You want more?”_ ** She grabs the tube and hands it to Adora, or she pretends to, but jerks it back at the last second. Adora glares at her, and she grins that toothy smile of hers. If her senses weren’t so blurry she’d be able to snatch it back right quick. Instead, she sorta flails, leaning too far out of bed and almost falling if it weren’t for Catra’s steady hands.

 

**_“Mean.”_ ** Adora accuses. Catra just grins.

 

She twists the cap off of the tube (Catra pretends to let her win). Once she’s applied a dollop of the gel to her fingers she reaches out. Catra leans away at first, but Adora grabs her forearm and holds her fast. 

 

“Hey,” Catra grouses. Or it looks like she grouses. Adora is focused on not stabbing her in the eye. The vibrant blue of her iris stands in sharp contrast to the dark purple and red splashed on her orbital socket. Orbital. What a word. It’s for eyes and it’s for planets, how they move around one another. She spreads the gel over the bruise in a semicircle. Semi-orbit. She’s been orbiting around Catra. They’ve been orbiting around one another. Two moons in a dance.

 

**_“At the Taipan.”_ ** She signs suddenly. The gel from her fingertips spreads to her palms and wrists as she signs. Oops. She shakes her hands as if to rid them of the substance.

 

**_“You idiot.”_ ** Catra grabs her hands and uses the edge of her own shirt to wipe Adora’s hands clean. She’s gentle. There are little scars all over her knuckles and Adora wants to know the story behind every one.

 

**_“What about the Taipan?_ ** ” Catra finally asks once she’s finished cleaning her hands.

 

**_“Do we have to dance?”_ **

 

Catra rolls her eyes again, though she’s smiling. 

 

**_“No, doofus. We don’t have to.”_ **

 

**_“But other people will be?”_ **

 

**_“I mean, maybe. There’s usually a band there.”_ **

 

Adora leans in conspiratorially, like she did when she was speaking to Shadow Weaver earlier. 

 

**_“I don’t know how to dance.”_ **

 

A beat passes. 

 

Catra throws back her head and  _ laughs _ . Adora punches her in the leg.

 

**_“Ow, ow! Okay, sorry, just--duh, of course you don't know how to dance. You’re such a dork.”_ **

 

**_“I can’t hear the music.”_ **

 

**_“Yeah, I’m aware of that.”_ **

 

**_“I’m tired.”_ ** As soon as she signs it she realizes it’s true. She’s bone weary. It’s like the exhaustion was building and building and had been held back until just now, and suddenly, it’s a tidal wave washing over her. Like the swell of the ocean. Pushed by the force of the moons.

 

**_“Wait, so you don’t wake up with a horrible headache--”_ ** Catra gets up from her seat and putters about in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Adora wiggles under the blankets. It smells like Catra. It’s soft and warm. She feels heavy.

 

Catra returns with a glass of water and a protein bar.

 

**_“Here.”_ **

 

She sticks out her tongue.

 

Catra touches it.

 

**_“Gross!”_ ** Adora signs with shock.

 

**_“You’re gross. Eat this.”_ ** She unwraps the bar and Adora begrudgingly does as commanded. She drinks the entire glass of water and swallows two white pills. When she finishes she sees that Catra’s laying a blanket and some pillows down onto the floor.

 

**_“No. Get in with me.”_ ** Yellow-blue eyes look at her carefully, as if searching for some sign of uncertainty. They must not find any because Catra shrugs and drops the blanket. She pulls her shirt over her head and slips out of her jeans. For once Adora’s too tired to appreciate the sight. Too tired and too...buzzed? Stoned? Fuzzy. Foggy. Light. 

 

Adora scoots over so there’s room for Catra to get in bed. Catra lays down on her back, still in her underwear, eyes half closed. Adora wants to be closer. She reaches over, nuzzles Catra’s shoulder, drapes an arm over her. Catra’s chest jerks up and down with a laugh. 

 

Catra rolls over so that she’s on her side. Adora presses herself against her back, molds herself to her. Jigsaw pieces. Just like this. Catra shuffles so that she’s better settled into her embrace. Adora closes her eyes, breathes in Catra’s smell.

 

They fall asleep tangled together.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh your comments are lovely, thank you so much! I love it when you guys find the little details and appreciate the care put into characterization and mannerisms and worldbuilding. I also love the short comments that just say thanks for the update! I couldn't ask for a better audience. <3  
> Additionally, a huge thanks to everyone who beta'd this chapter. I'll be revealing who I've chosen for the position tomorrow around 12 PM PDT. Keep up the good work and be excellent to each other!


	19. Chapter 19

She tugs at the collar of her jacket. It’s hot out here in the daymoon. Most of the other guards have rolled up their sleeves, let loose a few of the buttons on their shirts. It’s technically against the dress code, though at this point even their supervisor has loosened his tie. He’s not the same supervisor who told her to go home sick. The entire company is different, actually. She doesn’t know any of these people. She was just starting to get to know the folks at the one place when her assignment ended.

 

Adora is learning a valuable life lesson:

 

Being a temp sucks.

 

“Hey! Adora!” One of the guards is waving at her. He’s got his baseball cap on backwards. If Adora was his boss she’d fire him. Well, okay. That’s a bit extreme. The heat is making her irascible. But do none of these people have a scrap of professionalism?

 

“Hey,” the officer says again. The name Barre is sewn onto the chest of his uniform. Beside it there’s a stain of what could be either blood or ketchup...no. With this crowd, it is absolutely ketchup. She stares at it pointedly for a few moments before meeting his gaze.

 

“Yes?”

 

They’re supposed to be keeping an eye on this promotional event. It’s for some power drink.

 

“Can you read lips?” Here we go again.

 

“No. Lip reading is a myth, actually. Only about 30% of Etherian can actually be read on the lips. Other sounds you make using your tongue and throat can’t be seen well enough to distinguish them. Context is very important. Residual hearing helps a lot, or it would, if I had any.” She’s tired and she doesn’t really want to have this conversation but she figures every time she does she’s saving some deaf person in the future the trouble.

 

“But ******* ***** ****.”

 

“I know how to respond because I have memorized this conversation.” Gods knows she’s had it enough.

 

“*** ***** ******* ******?”

 

“No. I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

 

“**** ****** ****!”

 

“Like I said. It’s like reading from a script. Did you need something?” She watches a guy near the merch table wearing dark glasses and a long coat. He shrugs out of his jacket a moment later without fanfare. Her attention returns to scanning the crowd for potential threats.

 

“**** ****** ***** ***** the daymoon?”

 

“You’ll have to type or write it, I’m afraid.” She says. How lazy are all of these security guards? If SHE can stand at attention at her post, they should all be able to, too.

 

Instead of taking the hint to return to his job, Barre digs out a pad and a pencil from his vest.

 

_What sound do you think that the daymoon makes?_

 

She takes the pad from him because she’s tired of speaking.

 

_A: The daymoon doesn’t make any noise._

 

_B: I read online that deaf people who gained their hearing later in life were surprised that the daymoon didn’t make any noise_

 

_A: Literally none of the deaf people I know have ever thought that._

 

_B: Then why would someone write that?_

 

She shrugs. It’s the internet. People make up all sorts of nonsense. Her job isn’t to wonder why people spew false information like it’s the gospel-given truth. Her job is to keep this Munster Thurst™ event picnic free from any potential threats.

 

There’s a rush of air next to her ear. It’s all reflex. She lashes out. Barre’s arm is twisted around where she has him in a wrist lock. His face is contorted in agony. She quickly lets go.

 

“Sorry.” She says. She means it, too. Gods.

 

“I **** ***** **********!”

 

“What?”

 

“**** ****** *********!!!”

 

“You have---you have to write it.”

 

He cradles his wrist, backing away from her with a sour curl to his lip. 

 

“I--I’m sorry--” it’s useless. He’s gone.

 

She realizes later that he was trying to test her hearing by snapping.

 

She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, calming herself like Shadow Weaver taught her. In, out. In, out. Center yourself. Focus on five things you can see. The red and white picnic table cloths. The bandstand. The merch booth. A crumpled styrofoam cup spilling out of the garbage can. The fae children digging around in the dirt.

 

Her heart slows, settles.

 

She walks around the perimeter of the event, observing and keeping alert. She notices a few people turn their heads just in time to see a cop car blaze past on the road with its lights on. Is that the kind of car they’ll take Catra away in? Or will there be a specialized vehicle? An unmarked black van, sent by a power higher than the city police commissioner. 

 

And then what? Where will she go? The House of Darkness is typically reserved for illegal magical Practs, but after all the evidence Adora’s gathered, the standard security Bright Moon Penitentiary might not be deemed secure enough… She pictures Catra in a prisoner’s orange jumpsuit. She sees her scrapping with other inmates, being cornered in the showers, hiding bruises… She pictures herself in front of city hall, being awarded a medal by Mayor Teela, the crowd applauding, a smile on her face. 

 

It feels fake.

 

She thinks, instead, of her and Catra handcuffing Shadow Weaver, of handing her off to the black unmarked van that shows up with a squad of Department agents, of her and Catra being offered positions as partnered detectives.

 

That feels fake, too.

 

She sees Catra in prison, clenching her fists, plotting for the day she gets out to exact her revenge. She sees herself alone in her apartment sitting on the floor with all of the lights off.

 

Yeah.   
  
That feels right.

 

Her supervisor is waving her down. She jogs over to him, trying to cast Catra out of her mind.

 

“Yes?” She asks.

 

“**** ***** ************* ************?”

 

“I am deaf, sir.” She wonders, not for the first time, if it would simply be easier if she never spoke at all. 

 

He stares at her blankly for a moment before his brain catches up with what she said. He pulls out his phone and boots up a speech-to-text app.

 

_Where is your diffuser no BFF user no D E F U S E R_

 

A defuser was a (useless) defense mechanism developed by Modulok Industries to dispel magic. Defusers are small stone-sized discs. They’re really no better than a lucky charm. They’re a self-soothing device more than anything. Nevertheless, some people swear by them, despite all evidence and scientific research pointing to the contrary. 

 

She was issued one along with her uniform. She tucked it into her jacket pocket and promptly forgot about it.

 

Her jacket...her jacket that she left at Catra’s.

 

“Uh.”

 

_Give you a pass this time because you’re new next incident you have to gnome no go grown no damn thing go home exclamation mark important part of your equipment and you can’t work without it_

 

“Yes, sir.” She’ll have to go back to the warehouse and pick it up. She’s pretty sure it’s on Catra’s floor where she left it.

 

_You going to want our clients she is unprofessional now would we no clients as we wouldn’t want our clients see us is unprofessional now would we close enough_

 

He taps at his phone aggressively a few times, hesitates, then offers her a weak smile. He tugs at his already significantly loosened tie and stomps away.

 

She lets out a slow exhale.

 

It’s fine. She can get it after work. She remembers waking up at some point during the night and shucking her pants and jacket. It was hot with all of those layers...not to mention the furry body beside her.

 

The second time she woke she did so to a blinding light that split straight through her skull.

 

She yelped.

 

She covered her eyes with her hands to keep the light--and the pain--at bay. A moment later she felt hands over hers, gently prying her fingers away. It was too dark to make out more than shapes. 

 

“Catra?” She said, feeling small. Her hands were guided to something furry. She felt around and recognized two velvety soft pointed ears. Her fingertips continued searching, and she felt eyebrows, cheeks, a nose, lips.

 

Catra took Adora’s hands and forced the fingers into a fist. She untucked the pointer finger, then jabbed the two hands together. It’s sign language for ‘be right back.’ 

 

Through the gloom Catra managed to help Adora drink a glass of water and swallow another two pills. When she next introduced light to the room it felt more like a pounding hammer than a swinging axe. 

 

 **_“How long was I out?_ ** **”** She asked, her mind back on the docks as Diamond hit her with a dart.

 

 **_“12 hours, at least.”_ ** Catra responded. She was in her underwear. Why was Catra in her underwear…? Last night. Last...morning? Adora had no idea what time it was. She had no idea when she was last awake. She was tied down to Shadow Weaver's table. By her ankles. Her wrists were sore, too. In the dim light she saw circles of purple bruises. 

 

 **_"What happened down there?"_ ** She asked as an uneasy feeling rose in her gut. 

 

 **_"Beats me. I was trying to get in."_ ** Catra lifted her hands to show bruises along her knuckles and wrists. 

 

Catra was trying to get to her? 

 

 **_"I don't remember what…"_ ** Did she transform into She Ra? It would explain the locks. **_"She asked me about Diamond and Spade...She asked me if you knew them."_ **

 

**_"And?"_ **

 

 **_"I said I didn't. I said you didn't. I told the truth. I don't think I could've lied if I wanted to… I didn't want to."_ ** She wrapped her arms around her chest. She hadn’t been in control. **_"Did you manage to see their faces?"_ ** Anything to change her current train of thought.

 

Catra shook her head no.

 

 ** _“I threw Spade into the lake, and then while I was fighting with Diamond he must have grabbed the case. Diamond turned tail and ran. I tried to catch up with him, but he was too fast.”_** Too fast? Too fast for the woman who managed to catch the thief who snatched Adora’s sword despite their 30 second head start?

 

 **_“I got back and you were still lying there.”_ ** Oh. Ohhh.

 

 **_“You were worried about me.”_ ** Adora grinned, her pain momentarily forgotten.

 

 ** _“What--I was not!”_** Catra scoffed, incredulous.

 

 **_“You so were.”_ ** She insists. 

 

 **_“You took the dart that was intended for me! That’s twice the dose that--”_ ** she huffed and swiped at the air as if to erase her previous signs. Her ears pinned back against her skull. **_“You’re built like a bull. I knew you’d be fine.”_ **

 

Adora absently scratched at her wrist and then flinched at the unexpected pain.

 

 **_“As far as you’re aware, I didn’t turn into She-Ra?”_ ** She snuck a peek under the covers. It was hard to tell in the gloom, but her ankles looked bruised, too. They were certainly sore enough.

 

 ** _“No. After Diamond and Spade took off, I called Scorpia to come and pick us up. You were on my bed and Scorpia was with me in the bathroom helping with this.”_** She pointed to the white bandage on her side. She was starting to look rather patchwork, between that bandage and the one on her chest from Adora’s sword.

 

 **_“How’s your chest?”_ ** She asked, because she was thinking about it.

 

 ** _“Good. Fine.”_** She waved her hand again, as if to dismiss the topic. **_“You were only gone for maybe half an hour. Unfortunately Shadow Shit’s room is soundproof so I have no idea what happened. Why are you so concerned about it, anyway? It’s not like she doesn’t know what you are.”_**

 

 _What you are._ A bloodthirsty rage machine? An uncontrollable violent fiend? The antithesis of everything she, as a law abiding officer, was meant to uphold?

 

**_“Yeah. I...I guess it doesn’t matter.”_ **

 

Catra reached over from where she sat on the edge of the bed to trace the discoloration along Adora’s wrist.

 

**_“You really don’t remember what happened?”_ **

 

**_“No. Well--I remember parts of it. I remember her asking me about Diamond and Spade. I don't remember how I got these bruises."_**

 

 ** _“Maybe you had a nightmare or something.”_** Catra shrugged. **_“Thrashed around a bunch on her table and she decided to tie you down so you wouldn’t fall off and hurt yourself.”_**

 

**_“Yeah. Maybe.”_ **

 

She remained there for a few more hours before she insisted on going home. She needed to check in with Bow and Angella. She needed to get ready for work.

\---

 

At the end of her shift they’re called into the debriefing room. 

 

“*** ***** ****** ******* ****.”

 

Adora immediately raises her hand.

 

“**** *********** ****--***?”

 

“I’m deaf, sir.”

 

“*** ******** ****..... ***** *******?” There’s some chatter and the other security guards exchange looks.

 

Apparently Barre has forgiven her for her earlier transgression, because he sits down next to her pleased as can be. He has a laptop open in front of him. Oh boy. Here goes this, then.

 

Their supervisor resumes speaking and Barre starts typing.

 

Reminder about defusers. Magic activity in past few weeks, incident at 666 club?? Going over results of today… .pretty good, no real issues. Some kid lost their parents. Found again. Boring boring boring. 

 

Make sure paperwork up to date. NDAs. Local cops need help with some case? Judge needs protection. Threats from Horde. Ohhh do you think Prime is involved?

 

Adora reaches over to spin the laptop towards herself.

 

Can you please just translate

 

Barre gives her the stink eye as he turns the laptop back towards himself.

 

Might be some overtime involved.. Cops want two cars on her at all times...at least 4 officers… I wonder what case she’s working to make the Horde mad? Ryan says case has something to do with import taxes? Tariffs? What even is a tariff haha. Oh no shit he says there have been personal threats made by the Horde. Do you think Prime is involved?

 

Adora tries to take the laptop from him to say ‘no, and also shut up’ but he refuses to give an inch. Barre finally has a captive audience and he is not going to give that up easily.

 

Boss says need to be careful because Horde war is still on and to bring defusers because there was an incident a few weeks ago at 666 with an unknown magical assailant. 

 

I heard that one time Prime caught some kids trying to steal from one of his stores and so he made one cut the others toes off one by one. 

 

Adora prays to every God she knows to please stop Barre.

But the Gods aren't taking calls today. Or voice mail.

 

Did you know he runs the Bargain Bag chain?? And a bunch of bars all over the Fright Zone. 

 

And then everyone’s picking up their paperwork and bags and leaving.

 

“Thanks for translating.”

She doesn’t mean it.

 

\---

 

She considers going home and changing into something that doesn’t reek of sweat, but if she went home now she wouldn’t have the strength to leave the apartment again for the rest of the evening. The thought of being away from her shower and bed any longer is painful; the knowledge that she gets to see Catra soon helps soothe that.

 

On the bus she thumbs through her phone. A message from Bow checking in. Angella sending her a reminder about dinner that Sunday and to drink plenty of water because it’s hot today, Adora. But, that’s it. Strange. Catra usually sends her a flood of texts, even if she doesn’t respond back.

 

She sends one of her own now.

  
_A: Hey, I left my jacket at your place. I’m coming to get it. I’ll be there in ~25._

 

She doesn’t get a response. That’s fine. Even if Catra’s out, she’s sure Lonnie or someone will let her in.

 

The twilight is only slightly cooler than the day has been. The metal of all the slanting warehouse buildings bakes the air around them, lingering as the daymoon disappears over the horizon.

 

The metal of the warehouse door is hot under her hand as she pushes it open. Rogelio is sitting on one of the sofas around the fire barrel with...she thinks his name is Grizzlor? He’s this giant furry-looking beast with teeth too large for his mouth and a massive weight lifters belt tied around his midsection. He looks like he could eat her alive. Deep-set red eyes glint in the firelight. Her hand scrambles at her side and she realizes she's fumbling for the comfort of her pistol grip. Not to draw it, only to feel it there, a reminder of power should she need it. She wants to know that when this beastly creature comes charting at her she will have a modicum of hope of defending herself.

 

"*****?" The furry man slowly looks to Rogelio and nudges him. 

 

 After a quick exchange of words Rogelio turns and carefully signs C-A-T-R-A. His letters take some forcing, a few seconds of a wrinkled brow, but he gets them all right. When did he start to learn ESL? 

She nods yes; she is looking for Catra. He indicates the metal steps to her room with a quick nod. She waves to him in thanks and darts up the stairs to Catra's room.

 

Adora grabs the door handle and swings it open.

 

“Forgot my jacket--”

 

The thing about trauma is you almost never know when to expect it. It can jump into what’s supposed to be a perfectly normal day. March 3rd can be any boring day, or it can be March 3rd, the Day That Thing Happened.

 

Adora’s had a lot of Days Things Happened recently. Every day with Catra feels like a break from routine. 

 

Today is no different.

 

She’s hit with the smell of copper.

Copper and ozone.

 

The yellowing sheets of the bed are spotted with red. 

Catra lies on her stomach, her back exposed. There are fern patterns curling across her skin. Towards the center of the branching figure the red marks turn a deeper shade, the skin splitting open, raw and oozing. The very center of it all, the starting point, just below Catra’s left shoulder, is a blackened star shape. 

 

Adora remembers a unit on injuries in health class when she was 14. Sunburns were considered minimal damage to the skin. Second degree could prompt hospitalization; they were yellowing blisters that could split and spew. Third degree burns… the skin would be like charcoal. Black. She remembers reading _damage to the dermis and subcutaneous tissue_.

 

At this point Catra has rolled onto her side and is staring at Adora with her one good eye.

 

“**** **** ****.” She mutters, halfway leaning on one arm.

 

“What happened?” Adora drops her keys on the table and crouches beside Catra’s bed.

 

 **_“Leave.”_ ** Catra signs. She winces at the effort, the motion of her arms pulling at the muscles of her back.

 

“I’m not leaving. You don’t have to talk-- **_we need to get you to a hospital_ ** _.”_

 

 **_“No H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L.”_ ** She finger spells rather than lift her arm to make the sign on her shoulder. **_“Go.”_ **

 

 ** _“I’m not going. You can barely move! I won’t leave you like this.”_** Catra narrows her eyes at her, but she must be too tired to fight because she doesn’t protest any further.

 

 **_“Let me see your back.”_ ** Adora insists. Catra hides her face in her palm and rolls over onto her stomach.

 

Up close, it’s not quite as bad as she feared. Still pretty bad though. Still ‘we should get you to a hospital,’ bad if not really ‘oh god, you’re barely clinging to life and will die without serious medical help’ bad. 

 

She remembers where the first aid supplies are from last time.

 

She remembers this one incident when she was a beat cop and a Horde member unleashed a lightning spell on three officers standing around him. She remembers how some of their uniforms melted right into their flesh.

 

She remembers _subcutaneous tissue_. 

 

Adora crosses back over to where Catra is resting. Her shirt is nowhere to be seen. Adora’s jacket though--there’s something weird about her pillow? Because it’s not a pillow at all. It’s Adora’s red and cream jacket. It’s bundled up beneath Catra’s head, and one of her hands is wrapped in it. Catra turns to see her staring and Adora quickly looks away. She knows that Catra would be embarrassed about it, so she says nothing. 

 

She pulls up a milk crate and sits next to the bed so she can pop open the first aid kit in her lap.

 

She wants to ask what happened. 

 

Catra’s thin frame shakes as she inhales, skin stretching her wounds. It seems as though the few signs she managed to make took a lot out of her. Adora can see her ribs, and the muscles layered over bone. She is skinny and smelly and filthy. It is the first time that she has remotely resembled the hybrids her coworkers so often spoke ill of. Lead sits on Adora's chest. 

 

She doesn't ask what happened. 

 

She gets to work. 

 

 _Don't put ice directly on burns, it kills cells._ Wrap it in cloth. How long ago did this happen? Obviously sometime since they last saw each other, but is it five hours old? One? Twenty minutes? Are cells still dying? How long after the wound can cells keep dying for? How long has Catra been suffering alone in her room like this? How long would she have continued to do so if Adora hadn't stumbled in?

 

She gets ice anyway. 

 

Catra's ears swivel to follow Adora around the little kitchen area; otherwise, she is motionless. 

 

"I got ice." Adora says uneasily. Catra's face is still buried in her jacket. "I'm going to put it on your back...it might hurt. I--I haven't really treated a wound like this before."

 

Catra's ear twitches. It's the only indication Adora gets that she's heard her.

 

She lays it down gently. The Gods blessed her with steady hands. Catra's flank twitches at the sensation and Adora apologizes on reflex. 

 

While the ice does its work, she sets about cleaning off the excess gore, both on Catra's skin and around her room. She loses track of time, boils her existence down to a list of tasks. One thing and then the next and then the next. 

 

Time passes both quickly and slowly all at once. 

 

She uses a washcloth to dab at Catra's skin, careful not to exacerbate the burned tissue by rubbing. At one point, when she's dancing around a particularly deep wound, Adora notices Catra's claws digging into the mattress. She's tearing into the fabric like she can transfer the pain she's feeling. Yet, she doesn't move. She doesn't twist or tell Adora to stop. When her back was splitting open, did she ask for it to stop? Did she have a chance? Has Catra ever asked for gentleness in her whole life?

 

Adora moves on to the next burn. Catra's death grip relaxes.

 

Some time later she leans back, wiping the sweat that’s beading on her brow with the back of her hand. The wounds don’t look quite so bad with the worst of the dried blood cleared away. That center, though…--where it’s black--it’s rough under her fingers. Bumpy. Like there are bubbles of air trapped underneath. She presses down on one of the bumps and suddenly realizes that Catra hasn’t so much as flicked her ear. She isn’t gripping the bed.

 

The nerve endings are dead. 

 

She can’t feel anything. 

 

Adora sits back on the milk crate, her back aching nearly as fiercely as her heart. She wonders what else Catra has lost. She wonders if she will ever find out. If she’ll regret it when she does.

 

\---

 

With her hands slathered in it, Adora decides she likes petroleum jelly. It has a curious consistency. She’s thoroughly covered Catra’s back with it at this point. It smells medicinal. She noticed Catra look over at her and wrinkle her nose when she opened the jar, then she returned her face to the crook of her elbow a moment after.

 

Adora wipes her hands and stands up to stretch. 

 

It’s then that all of the simmering frustration boils to the surface.

 

 **_"Leave."_ ** Catra signs. 

 

**_"I'm not leaving."_ **

 

 **_"Tired argue."_ ** Which adora takes to mean Catra is too tired to argue. Alright, maybe the boiling anger was more like one spitting bubble that needed releasing.

 

"I'm not leaving you alone like this. I'm going home for a change of clothes and a shower, then I'll be back."

 

**_"Shower here."_ **

 

Maybe Catra wants her to stay more than she's letting on. Why else would she offer up her shower like that? Convenience? 

 

"Okay." Adora says, and she feels her throat click as she speaks. She remembers Shadow Weaver signing, ‘C-A-T, not C-A-S-H.’. Does Adora’s voice sound weird? She doesn't care. 

 

“Clean clothes? Or a washing machine.”

 

 **_“Use mine. Dresser.”_ ** Catra manages to manipulate herself around so she can point at the dresser drawers. Catra does not offer to give Adora her jacket back. 

 

As she steps out into the hall, Adora wonders again about the things that Catra has had taken from her, how unfair it all is. She wonders when Catra’s in prison how much she will resent Adora for being yet another person to take things from her.

 

Adora thinks she would resent herself, too. Maybe she already does.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my betas, Sparky and Joanna! Special shout out to Vi and Shiv for their plot help, and as always to my wonderful gf for making sure this is an accurate depiction of a deaf person.  
> And many thanks to you my lovely audience for your comments and your patience with me.  
> Please leave a comment if you can, it nourishes my depressed ass with serotonin. <3

**Author's Note:**

> For extra content including artwork and behind the scenes snippets check out #The Devil Is In tag on tumblr at SeasInkarnadine


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